


Another Life

by LadyBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya from the future, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/pseuds/LadyBee
Summary: In his fury and grief Jon pulled his dagger and cut his palm. The blood dripped from the fresh wound falling over Arya’s dead body.“If it was blood what you wanted...Have mine.” Jon said with his heart broken. “A King’s blood. Blood of the First Men...The Red Good can bring the dead back to life...I’m not asking much. Just this girl. Give me Arya back.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museme87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museme87/gifts).



**Winterfell, 305 A.C.**

 

He never asked for a second life or a crown. The only thing he had ever asked for, no matter the god that might be hearing, was Arya’s safe return to home. Her safe return to his arms.

For a while – a brief, turbulent and sweet time span – Jon thought his prays had been answered. Arya did come back home, with winter in her eyes and a talent for war that had been unknown to him. For a while he was as happy as winter and war allowed. He dared to make plans for a future even if future was a luxury only few of them would have.

He simply didn’t expect for her to do such a stupid thing. It should have been him to get between Arya and the Night King’s blade. He had been the one to challenge death and fuck up the balance as Bran would say in the aftermath of the events. Arya didn’t need to die in order to protect him. She was still so young...She had a life ahead of her with prospects of happiness even if not by his side.

She was gone though and it didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel real even if he looked at her pale face as he placed her in the pyre, dressed as a warrior princess as she would have liked.

Bran wanted to bury her in the crypts by Ned and Robb’s side. Jon would honor her last request though. He would give her to the flames so she would never come back as a White. He wondered for a second if he would ever be able to deal with Arya coming back with blue eyes, pale face and black hands. He would probably accept death from her hands and smile in the process.

It didn’t feel right...Not after everything they had lived together and all the promises made. She belonged with him. They were meant to grow old together and have a dozen of children to fill the castle with noise.

Jon looked at her one more time before turning to the heart tree in outrage and sheer anger.

“I fought your war!” He shouted with rage and tears in his eyes.

He was tired of doing what people want him to do. He was tired of being a puppet in the hands of the gods being them old, new or the red one. He was exhausted of being the hero, the moral and honorable man while he kept loosing everything he held dear. They owned him that one little girl. His heart, his home, his one true love.

“I fought your war and this is how you repay me! I didn’t make questions or doubted my purpose! I burned thousands of Other and I killed the Night King and the Dragons! If someone had to die it should have been me!”

In his fury and grief Jon pulled his dagger and cut his palm. The blood dripped from the fresh wound falling over Arya’s dead body.

“If it was blood what you wanted...Have mine.” Jon said with his heart broken. “A King’s blood. Blood of the First Men...The Red Good can bring the dead back to life...I’m not asking much. Just this girl. Give me Arya back.”

If Bran saw him through the eyes of the old gods he would probably be furious. He had warned Jon time and time again about the dangers of dealing with that sort of magic. He would say that nothing good could come out of such a bargain but Jon didn’t care. He wanted her back, no matter the price.

Nothing happened though. Maybe he had to sacrifice and whole village to have his wish granted. Maybe he simply had no magic left in him to bring Arya back to life.

Magic was vanishing from the world...Bran had told him so.

The dragons were dead, along with the White Walkers. Melissandre had thrown herself in the flames as a living sacrifice. Daenerys Targaryen succumbed along with her children. There was only Ghost, Nymeria, Summer and only two wargs to keep the beasts under control.

He had thought about sacrificing Arya’s direwolf, but in the end he couldn’t bring himself to kill the last remaining part of Arya’s soul. He kept the beast and she started to follow him everywhere along with Ghost.

The godswood remained quiet and the night was getting dark and darker without anything happening to the dead girl’s body.

Nymeria came out of the woods closely followed by Ghost. She sniffed her mistress body one last time and Jon couldn’t help petting her with his good hand in silent support before lighting up the pyre.

A sad howl came out of Nymeria’s throat as Jon shed his last tears over the loss of his heart.

 

 

 

♠♣♥♦

 

 

**Winterfell, 830 A.C.**

 

 

She looked at mirror one last time to check her hair and makeup. There was a flurry in her stomach and she could barely contain her anxiety. It was her first big role in her first big production. She hadn’t been cast to be Queen Arya – and not even her name had been suggestive enough to convince the producers and director that she was the obvious choice - but Jeyne Poole was a role just as important.

Arya knew she hadn’t been picked for the main role because the production had considered her to be too plain to portray someone as important as Lady Arya Stark, but what those people knew about anything? She had talent. She could convince anyone that she was a fearsome warrior queen if she damn wanted to. She had learned how to use a sword and at that point she could even do the choreography backwards, but it hadn’t been enough. Maybe she hadn’t brought her A game to the audition, but she had been sick then. Even so they still thought her to be good enough to be Jeyne Poole and she would prove them that she was better than that pretty little thing they had cast in her place. She would get the audience crying with her performance.

Her costume was stunning for sure. The white lamb wool gown with gray fur on sleeves and collar and a matching cloak with the gray wolf of House Stark was sure to grant the designers several nominations. The rest of the production seemed to be a bit messy though. She didn’t have a proper place to rehearse her scenes or memorize the script. Arya often walked through the park or the godswood for some quietness so she could do the fine points of her job.

They had used the godswood for external shootings that day and since it was already too late for them to get proper light, she thought it to be a good idea to go back there to remember her lines before they called her to shoot the wedding feast scene.

She grabbed her bag and script and walked the path to the godswood. As she walked and got completely distracted in her reading all the trailers, equipment and crew got too distant to be seen or even heard.

_This lines about Theon Greyjoy...I don’t know. It feels a bit too forceful to make him Jeyne’s love interests. This script is a bit shitty._ She thought as her eyes scanned the lines while she walked toward the woods.

The woods were gorgeous and peaceful. Arya had never been in the North before, but she thought the place to be pretty agreeable with her. Even the cold weather felt welcome to her skin. It was easier to get into the character’s psyche when she was surrounded by real historical settings. It felt real and she could almost see all those important people walking around and doing great things she had learned from history books.

As she got deeper in the woods the wind got chillier. It had been a sudden change in the weather for sure, or just someone preparing the snowy set for them to shoot yet another scene out side the castle. She looked around to try to find out why it had gotten so cold in nearly no time at all. She expected to see and hear a number of people shouting orders and instructions, while the floor was covered with fake snow.

There was only silence though. Blessed and pure like the snowflakes that started to fall gently from the sky to cover the floor around her.

Arya realized it was all to calm, to peaceful even at such a distance. She looked back and saw nothing but trees with their canopies covered in snow. Not even the castle’s silhouette could be seen. A wave of panic took her all of a sudden. Was she lost? How long it would be until someone found her there? At least her costume was made of warm and resistant material so she would be warm for a while.

The woods were denser than she remembered, as if a hundred trees had grown withing the night. It was also whiter with all the snow covering the floor all around her. Her own costume would make it difficult for anyone to find her. _I never thought summer snow would fall so fast and in such quantity..._ _The weather had been steady so far. What happened?_

Her only hope was to find the heart tree. It would be easier for the crew to find her there. They would certainly look for her to shoot the next scene.

Arya kept walking until she saw the red leaves from a distance. _There it is!_ She thought with sudden enthusiasm. At least she was no longer lost.

She looked ahead and saw a silhouette from a distance. That was an instant relief to her worries and for sure it was either someone from the production or one of the staff members of the castle. Arya approached the person so she could have a better look, but before she could get close two giant beasts got on her way.

Her scream disturbed the quietness of the godswood immediately as she looked at the two giant wolves approaching her with caution. She searched her bag looking for some sort of weapon, anything that might keep the wolves away. The only thing she found was the pepper spray she kept there for security reasons.

“Help! HELP!” She screamed hopping someone would listen and come to her aid.

The wolves seemed to be more curious than inclined to attack her but that made them no less frightening. A gray one seemed particularly curious and agitated while the albino one sniffed the air around her as if trying to catch a familiar smell.

“HELP!” She screamed again as she wondered if those animals were trained. She considered they might be one of those animals that would be used in the movie, but they looked humongous for trained dogs.

“Ghost! Nymeria! To me!” A male voice called from the godswood. Arya ignored the irony of those names while trying to recover her breath.

The animals gave a step back and eventually answered to their master’s command. The man she had seen from a distance approached her.

He was dressed in the most extraordinary costume she had ever seen. There were so many details, textures and layers of leather, linen, velvet and fur. His hair was long and tame in a bun to keep it out of his face. He wore a beard that seemed a bit messy and there were thin scars over his eyes. He wasn’t ugly or anything of the sorts, but he was far from being the material for a main actor. _Just like me..._ The bitter thought was inevitable. He looked at her as if he had seen a ghost.

“Oh! Thank goodness!” She said in relief. “They scared the hell out of me.”

The man didn’t say a thing. He remained silent as his eyes roamed all over her figure as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Arya...” His voice was low, smooth and haunted. “Is it you?”

“Yeah! I suppose.” She answered out of sarcasm. What sort of question was that? She didn’t know that man and she wasn’t that famous for him to look at her as if he was a goddess. “Are you part of cast? I must say your costume is really a thing! This production is making a real effort to win the technical categories. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Even your sword looks real.”

He looked at her and then at his own clothes as if he hadn’t understand a world she said. That guy seemed honestly confused.

“I’m sorry. How rude of me...What’s your name?” She asked in an effort of being polite and kind to the guy who had saved her from those monsters.

“Don’t you recognize me?” He asked in such a desolating tone that for a second Arya thought she actually knew that guy but had forgotten his face entirely. He looked familiar, but she simply couldn’t remember either his name or the circumstances they have been introduced to each other. “It’s me...Jon.”

“Jon…? Sorry, I really can’t remember you.” She answered mortified. “Were you at the first reading? No...It can’t be. Was it from a party?”

“Jon...Snow, or Stark, Targaryen...I just don’t know. It’s confusing.” He answered agitated and obviously distressed. _Oh...He is good!_

“Are you Addam’s stunt double?” She asked. “You don’t look like him and...I think he is taller than you.”

“Double?” He seemed even more confused. “No...I’m...It’s me. Jon Snow. Your...Cousin.”

“NO WAY!” Those were some serious news! There would be reporters and fans all over the place. “Addam was replaced?! I thought his name on the posters was mandatory at this point. The studio must be a mess.”

“I have no idea of what you mean. Who is Addam?” He asked the most ridiculous question ever. Addam Dayne was simply The Star. That could only mean one thing…

“I get it...You are good! Really good actually! I’ve never seen anyone using the method personally. It must be tiresome and consuming, but you nailed it! I’m not that Arya though. I mean...My real name is Arya, but I’m playing Jeyne Poole. You see...” She pointed to her costume. “Wedding dress and all...I’m getting married to Ramsay Bolton.”

“What?!” His face turned as pale as a piece of paper. He actually looked livid at the mention of Ramsay Bolton’s name. _All right...They were enemies, if I remember the script right. Jon Snow killed the guy._ “Only over my dead body! I’ve killed that bastard long ago, but you can rest assured that I’ll kill him as many times it takes! You are not marrying Ramsay Bolton or anyone else!”

“Fine...I guess I can play along.” She smiled at him. “Do you want me to play Jeyne or Lady Arya? Oh… I’ll be Lady Arya. The role should have been mine anyway.”

“Arya...I guess I should take you home.” He said as a matter of fact although he sounded very much concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself. This is probably my fault.”

“I’m feeling quite myself. Thank you for your concern.” Arya answered.

“I’m sure your memory will come back in time and you’ll start to make some sense.” He approached her cautiously. “You don’t need to worry. Ramsay is dead. You are not marrying anyone and I’ll fight Bran in this if I must. The only thing that matters is that you came back.” His gloved hands reached her shoulders with reverence and he gave her a relived smile as his eyes looked at her with adoration. _This guys is really good! Addam sounds like shit near him even if he is not that good looking._ “Everything will be fine, little sister.”

That was an odd line, but Arya decided to play along. She smiled at him and tried to picture what Lady Arya would have done. _She was really fond of him, wasn’t she? They married for love afterall._

“I’m so glad to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.” She answered his lines in a way that made sense to her. They were lovers reunited after some great deal of personal tragedies, weren’t they?

His face seemed to light up and his smile grew wide. His gloved hand cupped her cheek as he looked into her eyes with adoration. Arya could almost believe that he was actually in love with her. Damn! She wished someone had ever looked at her like that while she was still with her clothes on!

His hand reached her nape and brought her face closer. Arya realized suddenly that he actually intended to kiss her. Not a scenic kind of kiss meant to be all about visual and aesthetics. No...It was the real deal. With a lot of tongue and teeth involved in the process.

She tried to pull him off before his lips could touch hers, but it was useless. He was stronger than he seemed under all those layers of heavy fabrics and leather. His hands pressed her body firmly against his and Arya realized that she wasn’t dealing with a rehearse. That was sexual assault pure and simple!

She had been holding the pepper spray since the wolves attacked her. If there was an excuse for a woman to use something like that, sexual assault was surely a good one.

Arya prayed the damn thing on his face and the effect was almost immediately. He let go of her and while rubbing his eyes and cursing like a sailor.

“Stay away from me, pervert!” She shouted at him. “I’m not stupid to fall for this bullshit! Keep your hands out of me!”

She turned away and ran as fast as her costume allowed leaving that guy behind in pain.

“ARYA! STOP!” He shouted in a voice of command from a distance. If that guy was indeed an actor, he was a terrific one since he could stay in character even when he was in pain.

He growled something she couldn’t hear. Arya didn’t bother to look back and try to figure out what was going on, but soon the wolves were in front of her again, blocking her way. She screamed out of fear and shock. As she tired to escape the wolves blockade she tumbled on a piece of root and everything turned black.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She woke up with a massive headache and feeling a bit dizzy. Her eyes opened slowly as if she didn’t want to wake up just yet. Arya wondered if they would have to do the whole wedding scene again or if the director was satisfied with it already.

Arya kind of expected to wake up at her hotel room with the other girl she had been sharing it with snoring by her side. As her eyes adjusted to the light Arya understood that she was no where near the hotel. The gray granite walls were very much like those of the Great Hall where they had filmed the scene of the wedding. There was a fireplace where the wood cracked as it was consumed by the fire, keeping the room warm and providing it with light.

She had been resting on an old oak bed, covered in linen and furs to keep her warm. Her costume hadn’t been touched except for the cloak that had been removed, folded and placed over a vague chair in a corner of the room.

Arya sat on the mattress and looked around. There was nothing remotely familiar about that place and it was all too quiet for her to believe the crew was still in the castle filming. She might have passed out in the woods and someone from the castle found her brought her inside to rest until the next day. _What a mess I’ve made!_

Someone knocked at the door asking permission to enter. Arya granted it without knowing what else she could do.

A young girl dressed that seemed to have been worn for ages and mended about a dozen times entered the room carrying a platter with bread, a bowl with something that looked like soup a piece of cheese and a mug made of what looked like a horn. _What the hell is going on here? If it were a scene there would be people around. Why does it look like everything inside this place feels like something out of a history book?_

“I brought supper, my lady.” The girl said as she looked at Arya with her big brown eyes and a frightened face. Arya wondered why everybody was looking at her as if she had two heads. “I’ll tell His Grace you are awaken.” The girl bowed before leaving the room as fast as she could.

_His Grace?...What is going on here? Where is this place?_ She couldn’t help feeling confused and a bit distressed.

It didn’t take long until the man from the woods arrived. Arya tried to find her purse and the pepper spray, but he was holding the damn thing. She was defenseless against that freaking pervert who thought himself to be King Jon.

He approached her with careful steps and took a seat at a safe distance before addressing her.

“I won’t try to kiss you again, so I guess you won’t need to use this against me.” He said in a calm and somewhat constricted tone. Well...That was a relief to know. “I’m sorry about my behavior. It’s obvious now that you are not exactly what I was expecting.”

“What exactly were you expecting? I’m an actress in a fucking costume. I was lost in the woods and I thought you were a colleague!” He listened to what she had to say with calm demeanor even if he seemed to be quite uncomfortable.

“You said your name is Arya.” He answered. “You are Arya Stark of Winterfell and I am...You know me as Jon Snow. I’m your cousin. We grew up together. I’m afraid I might have damaged your memory somehow. I know it’s confusing and overwhelming, but you should be fine in time. You have no reason to fear me.”

Arya looked at him as if he was crazy or simply delusional. Was he one of those guys who believed to be Aegon The Conquer and rode broomsticks thinking them to be dragons?

“No...I’m not Arya Stark. My name is Arya Flint and I was born at the Vale and I was cast to play the role of Jeyne Poole. I am an actress.” Arya insisted with a calm tone. She hoped he wouldn’t get angry by her contradiction, but she needed to make things clear. “This clothes are just a costume.”

“Arya Flint was the name of our grandmother. You worked with mummers in Braavos for a while as far as I know, but you never said much about it. See? You are Arya Stark. You are just confused.” He insisted.

“No! I’m Arya Flint. I’m an actress! If you give me my purse back I can show you my documents.” Arya said while trying not to get exasperated in the process. “I’m not Arya Stark! Arya Stark has been dead for hundreds of years and you are either a lunatic or a freaking good actor.”

“Hundreds of years?” He asked curiously.

“Look...I have no time to keep playing. I probably have another scene to film in a couple of hours and I need to memorize my lines. Can you stop this madness so we can both do our jobs?” She insisted.

“Which year is this?” He asked soberly and Arya realized he feared the answer.

“830 After the Conquest. Ambrose Hightower is Head of The Parliament, The Bears won the Cup this year and Addam Dayne won the Golden Flower as best leading actor and it has been the hottest year of a long summer.” She answered without even breathing properly.

“It’s 305 After the Conquest. Brandon Stark rules the North and Jon Targaryen is the King in the Iron Throne. It’s winter still, but it’s fading away and the maesters believe we will have spring soon. I have no idea of what a Parliament or a Golden Flower is.” He answered her carefully.

“It can’t be.” Arya was stubborn to a fault, but that wasn’t stubbornness, that was simple logic.

“But it is.” That man insisted. “If you are indeed from another time as you say, it might be my fault that you were brought to this era.”

“How so? Are you some sort of wizard?” She asked with sheer sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

“When you speak like this I find it even harder to believe that you are not my Arya.” He pointed with a hint of misplaced humor. “Some say there’s magic in my blood. I’m the only child born from the union between House Stark and Targaryen. Blood of The First Men and Blood of The Dragon...They say magic is vanishing from the world again and I had to try something before it was too late.”

“Too late for what?” She asked curiously.

“I was trying to bring Arya back. I’m not a priest or sorcerer, but I was furious and desperate. I might have done something wrong and you were brought here for no reason.” He answered with evident constriction.

“You know...It just doesn’t make any sense.” Arya replied sarcastically. There was no way she would buy that odd tale. Since when that movie had turned into a time travel fiction? “If you are indeed King Jon and I am a woman from the future, I can give you a piece of information to soothe your worries. Arya Stark didn’t die during the war. She disappeared for a while in the aftermath, but she didn’t die. She came back to Winterfell at some point. She will marry you soon and have a bunch of children I can’t remember the names, so...She must be lost somewhere. You just have to find her.”

“Are you sure about it?” He asked in a calm tone and Arya nodded in answer.

“This is common knowledge. I don’t know if you are aware of it, but you are kind of a legend and every kid is supposed to learn about you and Arya Stark at school. I wasn’t exactly good at History, but that much I know.” Arya tried to sound convincing. She wasn’t lying about those things, but she wasn’t a History expert either. She had covered the basics to prepare to her own role, but she knew that Jon Targaryen and Arya Stark got married at some point after the war.

She hopped that information would make him leave her alone so she could go back to her work. He seemed satisfied with her answer, or at least less inclined to keep that nonsensical conversation going. He rose from his seat and walked toward the door.

“I should let you eat and rest now.” He declared soberly. “Would you mind to talk to someone else about this whole situation?”

“Who?” She asked curiously. That guy answered with a sad smile.

“Bran.” He answered shyly. “I mean...Brandon Stark. Lady Arya’s brother.”

“Of course.” Arya answered politely. “If you think it to be necessary...I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to him.”

That answer seemed to satisfy the said Jon Snow. The fact that they had been able to talk in a civilized way, without her trying to use pepper spray on him seemed to count as a small victory in a weird scenario that Arya could barely understand.

He left her in the room and once Arya found herself alone in that room her first instinct was to run toward the shutters of the window. It was spring still and there was no easier way for her to prove her own sanity than simply opening the window to have a glimpse at the bucolic northern landscape.

She opened the shutters with some difficulty, but once she opened the lockers the furious and freezing wind slammed the window open. Arya looked outside and the only thing she could see were miles and miles of snow in a desolating landscape.

Arya realized with horror that maybe Jon Snow wasn’t mad and to her utter despair she had somehow traveled centuries and centuries in the past.

 

♠♥♣♦

 

As he walked through the halls and servants bowed to him in an awkward way.  It was funny if not odd that the one who brought so much suffering to that land lived to be called king. The North belonged to Bran and in honor to Robb’s memory Jon hadn’t demanded the North to submit to the Iron Throne again.

The title and the crown were prizes he never craved for and yet after Daenerys and Aegon’s death there was no one left to claim the Throne and Westeros needed to be rebuilt. It felt like a curse for him to survive death, war and being rewarded with a crown he never wanted when Arya had been taken away from him. He felt like Robert Baratheon and the world seemed to have a strange and ironical way to punish him for the sins of his sire.

When he saw her dressed in white and walking toward the godswood Jon couldn’t help thinking that the gods found it fit to reward his efforts to fulfill his destiny and their will. They gave him Arya back, wrapped in a white wedding dress and with much of her innocence  rest o red . She seemed confused and a bit lost. She feared him as if she no longer recognized him as family or friend and that had been painful  to experience, but at least her eyes were once more filled with youthful excitement and witty curiosity.

T hat gift had been poisoned though. Jon found it hard to believe her story about being from a different time. Yet...Something in the way she talked and also about that strange potion she had used to hurt his eyes made him think carefully about the possibility.

Jon was reluctant to bring Bran into that problem, but his cousin was the one versed in supernatural matters. He might have learned something about time traveling or even why that girl looked and sounded so much like Arya.

He found Bran sitting by the fireplace in his chambers. Bran would often stay awake for most of the night reading or contemplating whatever it had to be contemplated in the multitude of his powers. Jon barely understood the extension of it, but he knew better than to ignore it’s mighty and relevance during the war.

Bran looked at him just to acknowledge Jon’s presence. Whenever they were alone there was little to no formality between them, even if they stood in equality. Both of them Kings.

“There’s a change in the air.” Brandon pointed. “Something I can’t quite understand, but it feels...It feels as if I could sense my sister near.”

Jon sighted at that. It was useless to say otherwise. Bran knew there was something wrong already and it was Jon’s fault that he  decided to venture in a field that was strange to him and so dangerous.

“What have you done, Jon?” Bran asked soberly. “Why couldn’t you simply let her rest in peace?”

“Because I could never rest in peace.” Jon answered without an ounce of remorse. He still wanted Arya regardless to the price he would have to pay to have her. “I refuse to live and fulfill my role in this farce with Arya by my side.”

“And you decided to use tools you do not know how to operate. I can feel it. There’s something wrong in the castle and yet it doesn’t smell of death like the magic of the Red God.” Bran’s voice was full with reproach and worry.

“Maybe because I gave her body to the flames as she had wanted.” Jon replied.

“But that is only half of the truth, I can tell.” Brandon snapped back sharply. In another time it would have been the other way around. Jon was supposed to be the older and wiser brother bound to guard and instruct the younger ones. Bran hardly needed his wisdom though, while Jon had found himself time and time again seeking Lord Stark’s counsel and advise in a number of affairs. “Tell me already.”

“I offered my blood in exchange for Arya’s return. I thought it hadn’t work, but the most unusual thing happened shortly after.” Jon replied soberly. “A girl appeared. She came out of the woods dressed in a wedding gown. She looks like her; she speaks with the same voice and boldness; even her name is Arya, but...”

“Nothing good comes after a ‘but’.” Brandon pointed. “Do tell me about how the gods poisoned this gift in punishment for your disrespect.”

“She claims that her name is Arya Flint.” He answered soberly. “An actress from the Vale and she believes to live in the year of 830 After the Conquest. At first I thought her to be your sister reborn only a bit confused, now I’m not sure what to think.”

“A Flint? From the Vale? That doesn’t make any sense.” Bran replied.

“So I thought, but then she attacked me using this once I made her distressed.” Jon handed the strange black flask with the devious potion. “I don’t know what it is, but it looks nothing like anything we have seen before. It makes your eyes burn as if a dragon had spat on them.”

 

“Do you believe her tale then?” Bran asked carefully.

“After everything we’ve seen and done...Would it be so absurd to believe it possible for someone to travel across time? You’ve seen the past yourself. You told me so.”

“To see the past is one thing, to interact with it and maybe even changing it...That’s something I was told to be impossible.” Bran insisted.

“Impossible seems to be this family’s favorite past-time lately.” Jon replied with bitterness. “She even told me about things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Pretty lies, I’m sure.” Bran answered skeptically.

“She told me Arya Stark disappeared in the aftermath of the war and reappeared at Winterfell later. She lived to marry and have several children.” Jon said.

“Marry you, I suppose. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have hope.” Bran insisted.

“I know it to be impossible, but what if this girl knows things we don’t? What if she is telling the truth about her origin? Shouldn’t we take advantage from the information the might have?” Jon questioned.

“If she is speaking the truth than you are ignoring one thing.” Bran answered with pragmatic coldness. “She doesn’t belong here. She must have a life, a family, maybe even children that were left motherless given to your selfishness. If she is speaking the truth, we must find a way to send her back to her time before anything tragic happens.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Arya’s reached for the mug made of horn they had brought along with her food and drank from it as if that beverage could somehow transport her back to her time. The only thing she got was the dramatic taste of a strong ale that was nothing like those beers she used to have back home.

She closed the window again and wrapped herself in the furs that covered her bed. It was cold outside. Cold in a way she has never seen before as if the whole land had been frozen to its core. Arya wasn’t given to tears, but as she laid back in bed she allowed herself to cry out of shock  until she was exhausted .

N o one came to disturb her in her sleep. She had hopped everything would be fine in the morning and she would wake up to the sound of her flat mate’s snores or the alarm of her clock.  In the morning she would be able to laugh about that strange nightmare and all the time travel nonsense.

Morning came, but to Arya’s great distress the nightmare remained very much real.

The same servant girl came to bring her food and fresh clothes.  Several pieces that were meant to form one complex outfit, including a gray dress made of velvet, wool stockings, linen shirts,  gloves and cloak with details in fur. She had a vague idea of how to put all the pieces of the garment together and make it slightly similar to what women wore back in 305 A.C., but the risk she might make a mess out of those things was still great.

She asked for the servant girl’s help in order to dress and the girl helped her without questioning. When she finished, Arya looked down on her clothes and realized how much the costumes she had seen lacked in layers and warmth. Those clothes had been made to face a harsh winter and also make her look like a noble woman, even if it was far from being the most refined dress she had seen.

Arya thanked the girl, but didn’t ask her name. If they believed her to be Arya Stark, she thought it might sound like an offense if she couldn’t remember the name of a member of the household. Later she would have to ask Jon about it and what they were supposed to do while the true Arya Stark didn’t come back.

Another knock at the door made Arya think it was Jon again. He seemed quite fond of talking to her for some odd reason. The fact that she actually looked like his lost betrothed was certainly messing up with his head.

Once the door was opened it wasn’t Jon who she saw though.

A young man in a wheel chair had a servant boy pulling him to the center of the room. He was dressed in fine warm clothes that seemed to match her own in color and motifs, as if they were to pieces from the same set. His auburn hair was short and he had the most stunning pair of blue eyes Arya had ever seen. It wasn’t because of the color, but certainly because they looked warm and full with wisdom she had never seen.

He looked at her with a curious face before the servant could leave them alone. Unlike Jon, that young man seemed somewhat displeased as he examined her, as if she wasn’t supposed to be there at all.  _With that much I must agree._

“I can see why Jon was so impressed with you.” His eyes looked around until he found the wedding dress she had been wearing on the previous day. He took it in his hands and admired the work with close attention. “You coming out of the woods wearing this odd wedding gown...It does have an appeal to a man sickened with love. I’m sorry, my lady. This was a terrible mistake.”

“Who are you?” Arya asked cautiously.

“I am Brandon Stark. The King in The North and Lord of Winterfell.” He answered calmly, as if those titles meant nothing at all. “I am Lady Arya’s younger brother, or at least the only one that remained.”

Arya bowed awkwardly in front of him.  _This is Brandon Stark! The King who rebuilt the North! I can’t believe he is just a boy!_

“I’m honored...Your Grace.” She answered and that made him laugh for some reason.

“By all means… Courtesies are not necessary between us. I find it incredibly disturbing to see my sister’s doppelganger bowing to me, when Arya would sooner roll her eyes at the sound of my voice naming all the tittles.” The King said with humor. “Your name is Arya Flint, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She answered simply.

“It was my great-grandmother's name. Arya has been name after her to honor her memory and also the mountain clans.” Brandon pointed with a discreet smile on his face. “You came from the Vale, though. Why would a Flint live in the Vale?”

“Cities grew faster at the Vale I guess. There were more job opportunities there and my ancestors moved in order to craft a better life.” She answered although she wasn’t sure about that.

“Jon told me you claim to be an actress and that this gown you were wearing is nothing but a costume. Is that correct?” Bran kept questioning.

“Exactly.” Arya agreed.

“What sort of play was that you were working at?” He seemed intrigued.

“Not a play. It was a movie.” Arya replied. “It is similar to a play, I guess. But we only have to perform it once while the whole thing is recorded. Then it can be presented to a great audience using a projector for years and years to come. This movie was about your sister. The actor who plays you is quite good, but not much like you.”

“That sounds fascinating, although I’m not sure if I understand half of what you said about this things called movie.” He seemed moved by her words somehow. “Were you playing my sister?”

“Not really. I wasn’t good looking enough, I guess.” Arya replied with an awkward smile. “I was playing Jeyne Poole.”

“These people for whom you work are not very bright then. You look and sound much like my sister and you are hardly the first girl I see to cause me such an unsettling feeling of seeing a ghost. It’s not even a surprise that Jon was so distressed. The similarity is shocking.” Brandon replied with affection and sympathy. “Now I must find out what to do with you.”

“I would like to go home. I can’t stay here. Not really. I have a life of my own.” Arya said immediately.

“How old are you?” The King in The North asked with caution and concern.

“Eighteen...Or better yet, eight-and-ten.” She answered.

“You are a bit older than my sister. Arya completed four-and-ten, but even so the physical difference between you is almost imperceptible.” He said. “Do you have children of your own? A husband waiting for you back home?”

“Neither.” She said awkwardly.

“That’s unusual, but probably for the best. I would be mortified to think that somewhere in the future there are little ones deprived of their mother.” Brandon said it with unexpected sweetness. “I’ll try to help you at the best of my capabilities, but I can’t make you promises. Meanwhile...You must know that this is a dangerous place. Even if the war is over and there’s an effort to rebuilt both the North and Westeros, there’s still much instability to be dealt with. Jon is the King in The Iron Throne and his is the heaviest burden in this. Needless to say that your forced connection with him is likely to became problematic. You look like my sister and to anyone who didn’t know her closely you might as well be her. It implies that you are connected to my family as well and this means something.”

“What is it? Are you afraid that my presence might damage your family’s public image?” She asked feeling slightly outraged by such a suggestion.

“I didn’t mean it as an offense, but my sister is far from being an irrelevant piece in this game.” He explained. “I know I could trust my sister to hold to our family’s best interests above her own. Can I trust you will do the same? No. I can’t, because you are not her and you have no obligations toward me or the legacy of my family, but my name can grant you a level of protection as long as you play your part on it.”

“And which part is this?” She asked cautiously.

“It’s no secret that Jon intended to marry my sister. I tried to delay it as much as I could and I had my reasons to do so, but it’s was useless to fight them in this. This marriage would be a peace offer. A way to keep the North independent and still on good terms with the Iron Throne. With Arya gone, I can’t help to sustain my plan and there are those who would have me breaking all sorts of relations with the Iron Throne. I would be a fool if I did so, but it won’t stop some important players of forcing my hand in this. Therefore, I need you to pretend to be my sister. Your strange behavior can be excused by the fact that Arya lived for a while in Braavos. My sister was never a conventional woman by any standards, so your extravagant conduct shouldn’t be so shocking. I can instruct you, or have someone else doing it so you can pass as her without much difficulty. Meanwhile I’ll try to find a way to send you back home and find my sister.”

“Do you mean I have to marry him?!” She asked out of shock. “No way! I’m not marrying anyone! I’m only eighteen!”

“Now you sounded just like her when we were children.” Brando muffled a laugh. “The betrothal can be a long one and we can keep it going for a few months while I look for my sister. Jon is not a bad sort of man and I promise he will behave. Your honor and good name will be safe.”

“It’s not about my honor and good name that I’m worried.” She answered boldly. “People don’t marry against their will from where I come from. I find the idea to be unsettling and slightly scary.”

“You would hardly be the first lady to dislike the idea of marriage.” Bran pointed. “All the better since Arya wasn’t much fond it herself. She have always loved Jon more than anything in the world though. I do not intend for you to marry him, if you guarantee that my sister is lost somewhere. Once Arya is found she will take over her role again while we figure out how to send you back home.”

“What if...” A wave of fear took her all of a sudden as she looked at King Brandon. “What if there’s no way of sending me back? What if I’m stuck here forever?”

“Then it’s my duty to take care of your well-being. You are not just a guest. You are as good as family to me.” Brandon answered with a calm and soothing tone of someone who was no longer used to be surprised by life. “I just ask you to trust me. Do not betray me or Jon for right now your safety and fate rest on our hands. Was I clear, my lady?”

“Perfectly.” Arya answered. That had sounded much like a threat to her, but she would need allies in order to survive that strange place. Jon seemed eager to do whatever she wanted and if he was indeed in love with her doppelganger that Arya could play him to her will. King Brandon was another matter entirely. “Am I restricted to this room?”

“Not at all. In fact I would like you to joying us downstairs to break the fast.” King Brandon said. “We will say you had been injured. Jon brought a different maester to tend to you and now you recovered. You are still confused and your memory isn’t so clear as it used to be, but you are improving. That’s the official story.”

“Fine...I guess I can play along with it.” Arya agreed since she had no better option at her disposal. “Will King Jon be there as well?”

“Of course. Why?” Brandon asked curiously.

“He makes me nervous.” Arya answered as a matter of fact. “He won’t stop looking at me as if...I don’t know. As if he was eager to jump from a cliff if I asked him to.”

“That’s a very accurate way to describe it.” Brandon laughed at it. “It’s just Jon being Jon. He doesn’t know how to act around someone that looks like my sister, but it’s not her. He is acting as if you were her, but had no memory of him. That’s distressing to him. He doesn’t know what to do, so he will try to please you. Just be patient. He will get used with this whole thing in time and so will you.”

“How should I act around him then?” Arya asked. “He is my betrothed, isn’t he?”

“Not yet, but it will be announced soon.” Brandon answered. “My sister has always seen Jon as a friend above anything else. They have always been quite frank and open with each other, so feel free to think of him as your friend as well. Treat him as you would treat your favorite sibling and it should be fine.”

“Isn’t it a bit odd if I’m to be promised in marriage to him? Why would I want to see him as my brother?”

“Oh...I thought it was common knowledge.” Brandon said curiously. “We grew up believing Jon to be our bastard brother.”

A rya gave a step back while looking at him with shock. Was that something acceptable? Was that something normal in that world? Little girls getting married off to someone they thought to be their brothers?

“And you would marry your sister to him anyway?!” Arya asked with terror.

“Nobody ever questioned a Targaryen when they married brother and sister. Jon is our cousin. I admit that the idea doesn’t agree with me, but I’m King now. I must consider a great deal of things, sometimes at the expenses of those I love. Jon was determinate to marry her though.” Brandon answered as a matter of fact.

“What about your sister? Did she wanted it too?” Arya asked as she felt her heart breaking at the cruelty of everything. “She is only four-and-ten!”

“I agree she is young, but she is a woman flowered. My other sister married for the first time at the age of three-and-ten.” Brandon answered in a cold tone. “Arya do love him dearly, but she had her insecurities about the marriage. It has to be done though. She understood that and I hope you’ll understand that too.”

“Yes...I can understand. Just don’t ask me to think about it as something normal.” She replied in disgusted tone.

“Rebellious to the end.” Brandon looked at her with surprised eyes. “At times it’s really hard for me to think of you as someone else...You speak in a way she would have done.”

“You are not even the first one to tell me this.” Arya felt nauseous for a bit. “What happens if you fail to find your sister?”

There was silence for a while. It’s not that King Brandon didn’t know the answer to that, he simply was reluctant to speaking of it out loud in fear she might not agree with him. There was a coldness in the way he looked at her. Even if she looked like Arya Stark, she wasn’t his sister and therefore he didn’t love her as such. She was just a convenient stranger that could help him to fulfill his plan.

“As I said...Jon is not a bad sort of man. He is quite honorable and kind. I wouldn’t be giving you away to a monster and...You would be queen. It’s really not a bad prospect for an actress from nowhere.”

“What if I don’t want to?! What if I refuse?!” Arya asked out of panic. Brandon smiled at her sadly.

“You would hardly be the first woman married off against her will.” He answered coldly. “You should trust your own knowledge, my lady. It was you who said my sister is still alive and that she married the King. That should mean that at some point you’ll find your way back home.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it didn’t work at all. Brandon offered her his hand in a polite gesture. “Now...Shall we break our fast?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Arya pulled King Brandon’s chair all the way to the great hall where servants, tenants, soldiers and all the members of Winterfell’s bleak household looked at her with silent shock.

If her identity was questionable, no one inside the  castle would ever dare to whisper a single word about it. It was inevitable to ignore the stares though. The eyes would follow her every movement as she took her seat by King Brandon’s side. Arya felt miserable and cold even if the castle was warmed by fireplace and an intricate heating system that kept the gray granite walls warm to the touch.

Food was served in modest quantity and scarce variety. It was winter after all and if hundreds of years later food was still an issue to be dealt with during winter, the reality in a post war context was  even harsher.

She ate in silence and mimicked most of the King’s gestures in awkward silence. Ale was served to wash down the food and soon Arya found herself drinking it as if a state of obliviousness would make everything disappear. She just wanted to be Arya Flint again. Just another face in the crowd, not a princess.

At least Jon wasn’t there to add to her distress.  _King Jon...I have to keep his tittle in mind. My cousin and my betrothed. This is just another role to be played. This is just a long term movie and I am the leading actress._

“Are you feeling well, sister?” King Brandon eventually asked her. He wasn’t concerned about her well-being or adaptation. That question had the firm purpose to reinforce the idea that the King himself acknowledged her as his sister, Lady Arya Stark.

“I’m fine. Perhaps a bit indisposed.” She answered with a level of informality that was ignored by everyone else. As it seems, Arya Stark was indeed a woman who cared very little to social rank and courtesies at least among her family.

“I suppose it’s to be expected after such a long time confined to your bed.” The King in The North pointed. “If you feel indisposed you may retire to your room. You may also exercise your legs a bit, if you feel like walking around the grounds.”

“I guess this is a good idea.” She answered as she felt a bit dizzy and sick with anxiety. “I guess I could do with some fresh air.”

“Just don’t go too far. You are not fully recovered yet.” King Brandon advised.

“I’ll go to the godswood. I a bit of quietness will do me well.” She was eager to get out of the castle and simply breathe.

“Don’t forget of getting a warm cloak before you leave. Although winter is fading, it’s still very cold outside.” He tried to sound like a carrying brother, but she wouldn’t know who that felt for sure. Arya simply nod in agreement and asked for someone to fetch her warm cloak and gloves before she could leave for a walk.

Once she was outside the castle she got a glimpse of what life five hundred years ago looked like. Smiths beating metal with their hammers, men tending to animals, women coming and going from the kitchens carrying buckets or baskets, children playing with snow and soldiers keeping vigil on the top to the walls.

All of them would bow to her once she passed them by. They would also smile and ask about her health, to which Arya would simply answer that she was improving before asking about the person’s day or the weather.

It felt strange to a certain degree. Everyone in the castle seemed surprise to see her, but also genuinely happy. Some pointed how lovely it was to see her in a proper gown and that her lady mother would be happy.  _Lady Arya was an unconventional women. She favored male clothes and liked violent sports._ She reminded it from the script and history books, even if most movies would constantly portray the woman as dazzling and regal warrior princess, wearing metal work over an elaborated gown.

It was with a pang in her heart that she noticed that Lady Arya Stark — the woman who’s life she was stealing – was very much beloved by her people. It wasn’t just King Jon and his creepy love for her, or even King Brandon and his determination to find her. Everyone in the castle smiled after giving her a careful look and recognizing her as their lady.

She felt bad for making fools of them, but she was an actress after all. The difference this time was that nobody was paying to see her pretending to be someone else. They believe her to be someone else and to say other wise would be a terribly dangerous thing.

Once she got out of the courtyard Arya felt a bit relieved as if she could breathe properly for the first time in a day.

The path to the godswood was familiar although the vegetation was fairly denser than five hundred years in the future. It was a lovely path though and there was a striking sense of melancholy in the snowy landscape. In movies they would often use blue tones to highlight those feelings, but Arya realized that Winterfell didn’t need such things. It was already a desolating place on its own  and Arya realized that she had literally become the princess locked in a tower.

Half way to the godswood she saw one of the wolves again. Even if the beast was fairly distant from her Arya still froze at the sight of it. It was a magnificent sight though. The golden eyes and the mighty figure standing on the top of a rock as she passed by... _Nymeria, wasn’t it? The white one is Ghost._

The wolf didn’t seem interested in hurting her, but it was surely curious about how strangely she acted to the point of following her with calculated movements as if Arya needed some kind of guidance or protection.

As Arya walked carefully across the woods covered in snow the wolf followed her from a safe distance, not sure if it was really its mistress or a very similar creature.

She reached the godswood as if she waited for a miracle. Even if those weren’t her gods and she was a stranger to their land, Arya pressed her palms together and begged for an answer. She asked for a way out of that madness.

The tears came in time as she despaired at the idea of being forever trapped in that era. She wanted the comfort of her flat, the laugh of her friends, her parents...She missed the noisy streets and the smell of fresh coffee.

Arya touched the face carved in the heart tree with her gloved hands. She pressed her forehead against the tree as if she could connect with the gods somehow.

“Why did you brought me here?” She asked miserably. “This is not my place. I want to go home. I want to see my parents again and I can’t believe I’ll never have the chance to work with Addam Dayne! How I wish I could kiss him even if it was during a scene!”

“Kiss who?” A familiar male voice asked from a safe distance.

Arya turned around as she whipped away her tears to face Jon standing ten steps ahead. _Of course it would have to be him to find me in such a ridiculous moment!_

He seemed ashamed as he looked at her. Maybe he even felt guilty about what he have done, but that was a useless feeling. Of course Arya could scream and blame him for everything that was happening, but he was still one of the few allies she had. Besides...She doubted anything good could come out of her cursing the King. It simply wouldn’t send her back home.

“Who is this man you want to kiss?” He asked again. He didn’t seem angry or anything of the sort. Maybe he was just trying to figure out the kind of life she had back home. “Is he your betrothed? Your husband, perhaps?”

“He is neither of those things.” She answered with evident frustration as she rubbed her eyes angrily. “He is an actor like me. My favorite one.”

“The one who won the Golden Flower, which I supposed is some sort of prize?” Jon asked as if he was starting to make connections.

“Yes.” She agreed. “He is really good. I was excited about working with him.”

“Is he your beloved?” Jon kept asking in an effort to understand her distress or maybe simply understand her.

“I wouldn’t say that...It’s more like someone I found to be attractive.” Arya replied as she sat on a dead trunk near the heart tree. “You know...Someone you would like to kiss just for the sake of curiosity.”

“Do ladies do this in your time?” Jon approached her carefully. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say and Arya wondered if that was giving him ideas. “Even if they are not married to the man in question?”

“Well...Yes, they do.” Arya said with a bit of an awkward smile. “It must sound like a place of depravity to you.”

“I can’t say that the concept is easy for me to understand, but...It’s not unusual for young lads to entertain themselves with girls they are not committed to here. It’s not usual for a noble woman to act like this though. Not without a great deal of reproach from their pears.” Jon answered carefully. “It must be interesting though.”

“In some ways it is.” Arya agreed with him. “Better than to be promised in marriage against your will to a complete stranger you might even be related to.”

“I’ll assume that Bran talked to you about his plan.” Jon concluded in an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry about it. It was never my intention to involve you in this.”

“It doesn’t make much difference if you wanted or not. I don’t want your apologies really.” Arya answered in a very pragmatic way. “This is the role I must play until you find the real Arya Stark. I just find it...Weird, to say the least.”

“Why?” Jon seemed confused. “Is it about the betrothal or just the idea of taking Arya’s place?”

“You are in love with a girl of four-and-ten that you grew up believing to be your sister. There’s nothing slightly normal about that. It’s repulsive.” Arya snapped back and realized too late how disrespectful she might have sounded. It was not her place to judge them. That was an ancient time and things changed drastically along the centuries. He was probably acting according to social rules.

“I can’t say you are wrong about it.” King Jon answered with evident shame. “I wouldn’t mind to wait until she was a bit older, but the whole kingdom is forcing my hand about a marriage and an heir. These things I won’t be able to escape for long. As for her being my sister...It’s for the gods to say why I love her the way I do. It was never my intention and yet here I am. I love the only woman who has always loved and accepted me even when I was nothing but a bastard growing up in the shadows of this place.”

“In my time we learn that both of you grew up in the same household but you were Lord Stark’s ward. So...There was always this notion that you knew that you were her cousin.” Arya explained. “As for the age...I guess it’s not unusual in this time for a girl to marry so young.”

“What else do they teach you in your time? What happens next?” He asked curiously.

“Not sure. I know you become a legend because of the war. You take the throne; make some serious changes in the law system to benefit the commoners and you put an end to the Targaryen tradition of marrying brothers to sisters. Dragons never came back and you live a long life.”

“Does Arya live a long life too?” He asked in a melancholic tone.

“Yes, but she dies before you.” She answered with caution. “She has a long life and you give her a lot of importance during your reign. Six children, if I’m not mistaken. I was never really good at History.”

“What are you good at then?” He asked with a kind smile.

“Acting. I’m also good with numbers and I am a killer dancer, although I don’t think you would appreciate my modern style.” She replied with humor.

“Do you have a family back home?” He kept asking the personal stuff. Arya supposed it would be for the best if he knew her for herself instead of simply assuming that she was exactly like his lost cousin.

“My parents, but I don’t live with them since my last birthday. I don’t have siblings. I don’t have a husband or children either.” She answered.

“You live on your own then? Isn’t it lonely?” He sounded concerned.

“I have a flat mate. A friend that shares the apartment with me.” She explained. “It’s nice since I’m always working on some random commercial or another. It was my first movie...I worked so hard to get this role and now...I’m lost here. I’ll probably never work as an actress again even if I manage to go back.”

“Bran will find a way to send you back.” The King tried to reassure her, but Arya had a hard time trying to believe either of them had her best interests in mind. “Meanwhile I could try to correct your perception of my time.”

“How was she? Your cousin, I mean?” Arya asked shyly, making him devastated at the weight of his emotions.

“It’s not only your face that looks like hers. Your voice and the boldness in the way you talk...I almost believe that you are one and the same. Arya would make friends with anyone, regardless to rank or propriety. I love that about her. She is fond of flowers; the wild ones. She has a talent with swords and anything unladylike. She loves horse riding and songs too, even if she pretends otherwise. She completes my sentences without even realizing it.” Jon answered in a way that made Arya realized that he had been trying hard to not cry. “I guess this is all I can tell about her.”

“Well...That’s quite vague. If I am to pretend to be her, I’ll need you to help me in this. I must know how she would react to the world around her.” Arya pointed as a matter of fact. “Her favorite food, pass-times, things she hate...I must know everything.”

“I’ll do my best to help you in this.” He assured her with a sober tone. “Whenever you have a doubt, you just have to ask.”

“How did she reacted to your proposal?” That question wasn’t what he had been waiting for, no doubt. Arya couldn’t ignore the sudden blush on his cheeks and that had nothing to do with the freezing weather. He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

“She said it was nonsense. Absurd even. Bran would never agree with that.” Jon sighed. “Of course she had been aware of my intentions since my parentage was reveled. We had been avoiding the topic for a while until I found myself kissing her. It’s not that she doesn’t love me, but circumstances surely made it complicated. Arya agreed because it was the best option for her family, our people and also because it was either me or another marriage in which she would have little to no power over her own life. Better stick with the problem you are familiar with, I suppose.”

“We learn in school that it was a marriage for love.” Arya pointed curiously. “In the end it’s all politics, isn’t it?”

“You learned right. I’ve always loved her and this was a mutual thing. The problem is...Our love changed a great deal along the years. It went from complicity and pure sibling love to passion and consuming lust. I don’t know how it happened or why. Maybe my blood is to be blamed. Maybe it’s just our personal curse.” He said soberly. “I don’t want you to think that I forced her to have me. It really never happened. I would never do anything to hurt her, no matter what. I will never do anything to harm you either. I hope you know that you have a friend in me.”

At that she couldn’t help a warm smile. Even she had to admit he had been trying to approach her in the kindest and gentlest way possible after ruing first impressions. He sounded like a kind man with a bad case of tragic love, while she was lost in a dramatic nightmare.

“I’m honored, Your Grace.” She answered with a hint of sarcasm and a smirk. For a seconds she noticed that he had held his breath as his eyes looked at her with sheer confusion and longing. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

As much as Brandon Stark loved his sister and wished for her safe return, there was something in the tale of Arya Flint that simply didn’t fit logic.

Jon said he had given Arya’s body to the flames as she had wished. With or without magic, a body fully destroyed couldn’t be brought back to life, and yet the girl Arya Flint insisted that Arya Stark was known to survive the war and live a long life after it. That simply couldn’t be.

His sister was dead. He had seen her body. He had been the one to close her eyes while Jon held her in his arms with despair. There was no way of her getting back to life once her body had been burned. No god was that powerful and yet a woman from the future appeared in the godswood.

That doppelganger was the key to a mystery Bran had yet to figure, but at least she offered them a short term solution to the matter of a queen to consolidate the alliance with the Iron Throne. That girl would help him to hold the peace and keep the North independent. Jon seemed way too dazzled by the that unexpected turn of events to question what they would do without the real Arya Stark.

Bran could ignore the insistent voice in the back of his mind. What if his sister was really dead and never to come back? What if the only thing they would ever get was the impostor Arya? Would Jon ever accept such a bargain? A pale imitation to replace the woman he loved so fiercely would be enough?

And the girl...Would she ever resign and accept that fate? What did she know about politics and the dangerous game she would have to play in the capitol? Jon would protect her and there was no doubt about it, but would she ever accept that she would have to marry the man? She didn’t seem receptive to such a plan, but what other options did she have? The protection granted by the Stark name was the only thing able to keep her safe.

Bran watched them getting back to the castle, walking side by side like a couple during the first stages of courtship. They seemed to be civil and even friendly in their interaction. That was a good sign. Bran could only wonder how long it would take for Jon to forget that the woman by his side wasn’t his Arya. Not long for sure and that would make things complicated.

The papers had been already signed although Arya Flint had been kept oblivious of such a fact. The promise of marriage couldn’t be broken easily, therefore it was say to say that Jon already had a claim to Arya Stark. The ceremony would be just the public confirmation of the alliance and Bran could only hope that an answer to that problem would be found until the wedding day.

“We can postpone it a while longer. I know it’s not ideal, but it could be done.” Jon suggested once the pact had been signed.

“Based on what? Legally speaking she is a woman grown. A maiden flowered and ready for marriage.” Bran felt exhausted. “She is even older than my sister.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she could claim to have made a vow of sorts. Something that would take sometime for her to accomplish before she could be married. A promise to the gods, if you must.”

“It could work and also help you with the Faith if this said promise was to...Let us say the Maiden and the Mother.” Bran agreed, although he wasn’t sure if that would work or not. “Do you know if she worship the Seven?”

“She doesn’t seem devoted to any god. She is particularly ignorant of the Northern ways. This we will have to fix. Have her learning about our gods, your bannersmen, the names of the members of this household...Also about the past. Robb and Lady Catelyn, along with Lord Stark. I guess she only knows vaguely about these episodes and that Arya witnessed all this tragedy.”

“I can help with some of this. Maybe write her something like a play so she can learn it in a way that is familiar to her.” Bran looked at Jon for a while and wondered if that plan could really work or if they were just making the whole situation even messier. “You will have to teach her about swords and feed her information about how Arya conducted herself during the war. She must sound convincing.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m not expert in the Braavosi style.” Jon added and Bran noticed how tried and hopeful he sounded. He wanted to believe Arya Flint’s story to be true and also find some solace in the idea that should everything failed he could turn the girl into the woman he loved. Bran couldn’t tell who which was crueler; Jon realizing that Arya wouldn’t come back, or Jon trying to force Arya Flint to become Arya Stark just to make it possible for him to go on with his life and duty.

“Don’t get your hopes too high.” Bran warned him. “I know this girl gave you hope to find my sister again, but we can’t trust her word to be true. She seems to have learned a different version of some facts so she can be wrong about it.”

“What would you have me do? I must believe her for the sake of my own sanity.” Jon answered angrily.

“I suggest you to get used to the idea that my sister might be really gone forever and that this girl does not deserved to be groomed into your ideal woman just so you can do what you must to hold this kingdom together.” Bran knew those words to be harsh, but Jon needed to listen to the bitter truth.

“I’m not grooming her into anything.” He nearly growled. “If she must pretend to be Arya, than I’ll help her to do her job so we can have time to find another solution.”

“What will you do if Arya is really dead and gone? Have you thought about it at all?”

“We will find another way to keep our alliance. No matter what I’ll respect the Northern independence.” Jon answered in a pragmatic tone, but he didn’t seem to understand the depth of Bran’s question. It wasn’t just a matter of politics. It was also a matter of a heart about to be broken again.

“What will you do about your queen?” Bran insisted. “You will have to marry someone at some point. This is not negotiable. You need an heir and you need it soon. You should get used to the idea that my sister might not be the one to give it to you. What then? Who will become your queen?”

There was silence for a while and Bran could almost seen the ideas cooking inside Jon’s head. The taste of it was surely bitter, but the North was a harsh and unforgiving land. A northerner would always learn in the hardest way to do whatever was necessary to secure survival and Jon was almost the North made flesh.

“I suppose the girl will have to do.” His voice came out cold and heartless. “One of the reasons for me to have Arya was that I could trust she would never betray me in this hateful game. This girl’s safety lies on our hands right now. She can’t afford turning her back or make enemies of us. Six children, she said...I’ll have no less.”

“She will hate you for this. You will be deliberately forcing her into this role. Forcing her to take all the pressure of court and bare you children.” Brandon warned. “There might come a day that this hate will turn into the very weapon that will slit your throat.”

“Then she will be doing me a favor.” Jon answered without an ounce of remorse before he looked directly at Bran. “Do not act as if you were truly concerned about her will. There’s only so much you’ll care about this girl, but if our fears prove to be true you won’t think twice before commanding her to marry me. Neither of us survived this far without shame and blood in our hands. The Starks haven’t hold the North for so many centuries by playing by honor and justice all the time.”

“I’m not the one that will be bedding an unwilling bride.” Bran added. “You might have grown uncaring and crueler with time, but you still have much of my father in you.”

“Then I must learn a thing or two with Rhaegar. It’s not as if my mother went to his bed willingly after what happened to Lord Rickard and Brandon. No woman would.” Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Bran could sense the bitterness and the disgust in Jon’s voice whenever he spoke of his parents. “The girl might come to accept her fate. Maybe with time she can warm up to the idea. I’ll try my best to not be my usually unpleasant self and woo her if needed.”

“Then I suggest you to pray for Arya Flint to be as pragmatic as my sister and accept that she will have no other option to ensure her safety and well-being then to have you. You are young and surely not the ugliest man alive...I’m not sure about her opinion of you, but she could do way worst then becoming queen to a young king.”

 

§§§§§§§§§§

Brandon Stark had been kind enough to write down several instructions and useful notes about his sister character and general biography. It was something like the most detailed script she had ever seen. Arya wasn’t sure if she was thankful for his consideration or heartbroken over the evident love that King Brandon had for his sister.

They seemed to be close since childhood. In fact there were several pages on funny episodes from their childhood. Nicknames Arya Stark had used along the years; details on how she usually interacted with other family members and a whole description on the household members. The most heartbreaking thing in those pages was to learn in details that Arya Stark had witnessed her father’s murder and been outside the Twins the night Robb and Catelyn Stark were killed. According to Brandon, she had seen her brother’s mutilated body and how his head had been replaced by his wolf’s.

She cried while reading it. It was inevitable to not feel some sympathy, especially when Arya feared not being able to see her parents ever again. If they couldn’t send her back to her time or...If Arya Stark never came back to her home, her parents would be as good as dead to her.

To help her with that complicated role, Brandon Stark usually asked for her to accompany him to the godswood. There they usually talked about both Arya Stark and Arya Flint, while he tried to teach her a bit of the Northern tradition and religion. Those were the moments Arya Flint liked the most. Something in Brandon’s voice sooth her fears and gave her some comfort. He felt like an old friend at times, even when Arya knew that he was capable of being cruel as well. _He is known to be intelligent and wise. People called him_ _The_ _Builder and_ _The Wise...They also called him The Bitter and he certainly did something to deserve the name._

It was difficult to believe that a boy in a wheelchair would command the Northern Golden Age and even more difficult to believe that he would dispose of enemies without even think twice. Brandon was so kind that Arya couldn’t help finding him an easy soul to love. She would have loved to have a brother like him.

If Brandon’s presence was a comforting one, Jon’s was a perpetual source of anxiety. The King in the Iron Throne was very polite and at times too solemn around her. He didn’t smile much and whenever they were in public he seemed to be a better listener than speaker. At times Arya thought him to be dull and absolutely unimpressive to the point it was impossible for her to believe that the man was indeed a national hero.

Every now and then he would try to touch her and speak close to her ear about whatever he thought to be necessary. Those were deliberate measures to reinforce that she was the real Arya Stark, the woman he loved and grew up calling sister. Whenever he touched her arm, or held her hand, Arya felt trapped. Even if she managed to go back to her time, nothing would be able to stop the King if he decided to have her.

What would be of her if she dared to deny a king? Would he execute her? Deprive her of food and shelter over his damaged pride? Jon had no problems with that forced kiss and since she told him that she was single he didn’t seem so mindful of his hands.

“Soon we will have to go to King’s Landing.” He said once during supper. “There are things you must learn before we reach the capitol.”

“Such as?” Arya questioned before tasting her soup.

“Dance, bad needlework, and some very unladylike things.” He said soberly while his insistent eyes evaluated every inch of her face. “Arya have always been a terrible lady, according to her mother and septa. I never cared about it, but it was something she was known for. She was a terrific horse rider and she was more than just competent with a sword in hand. How much do you know about these things?”

“Nothing about your kind of dance for sure. I’ve never learned how to embroider either so being bad at it doesn’t seem so difficult.” She answered as a matter of fact. “I guess I can handle a sword, but there’s something that might be a problem. I’m terribly scared of horses.”

“That’s something we will have to fix.” He said in a pragmatic and uncaring way. “Arya is known all over the North for her skills.”

“I’m not getting on top of a horse.” Arya answered sharply in the lowest tone possible.

“You will. If you want people to believe your acting, than you will learn your way on horseback.” His voice was adamant. “I’ll teach how to do it. It’s not that difficult and...You will learn to like it with time.”

“I doubt.” Arya insisted. “I’ve fell from a horse when I was a kid. I’ve been avoiding them ever since.”

“You are not a child anymore and you won’t be alone. I’ll find you a good animal; sure foot, with a good temper. You’ll have no reason to fear it.” Jon replied and, although his voice made it clear that he wouldn’t let her escape from it, there was a bit of tenderness to his tone.

The discussion died at some point and Arya hoped he would let go of the matter. Obviously she was wrong to presume so. Jon had a servant girl dressing her in male clothes and bringing her to the stables.

When Arya arrived there two animals awaited for their riders. Jon was already there, holding a black and white stallion by the rein. The other animal, a chestnut mare, was smaller and yet magnificent.

“Come here.” Jon called her. “Greet your new friend.”

“I won’t get any closer than this.” Arya insisted. Jon solemnly ignored her complains and guided the animals to where she was standing. At that point Arya was paralyzed with fear. She was so afraid that her legs didn’t answer and a tear came down her face.

Seeing her so obviously distressed made Jon stop. His harsh face suddenly softened a bit. He let go of the horses and went to her. The next thing Arya felt was his hands holding hers.

“You don’t have to be afraid of them.” Jon tried to sound kind and gentle. “They are well trained.”

“Don’t...Please don’t make me do this.” Arya begged as she held his hands tightly with her eyes closed.

“Arya, open your eyes and look at me.” He commanded and slowly she did as he said. “To ride a horse is no different from what you are doing here. You are placing your trust in me and Brandon to guide you in a land and a life that are alien to you. It’s the same thing with the horses except that horses, unlike people, are not treacherous.”

“I told you I am afraid of them.” She said it between sobs.

“Then we will work with this first. We can ride tomorrow if you agree, but you must at least summon the courage to touch them.” Jon said softly. “Come here. We will just feed them so they can get used to your presence.”

Jon took her by the hand until Arya was standing in front of the mare. She could feel the animal’s breath near and the waves of panic kept coming. Jon picked something from a bag tied to his saddle and put it in her hand. It was a small apple. Something she thought she would never see in such a harsh winter.

“Spring likes apples.” Jon explained. “She will adore you for giving it to her.”

“How is it possible to grow apples in such a weather? Why would I give it to a horse?” She said outraged.

“I told you that Winter is fading. Down the Neck harvest already started and the North is improving it’s trade. You don’t have to worry about this one.” He said. “Now come and feed Spring. Just let her sniff the apple and don’t try to run away when she gives it a bite.”

Arya kept her yes shut as she offered the apple to Spring. The horse sniffed it in a noisy way and soon Arya hear the sound of a loud chewing.

“Open your eyes.” Jon asked close to her ear, making her shiver. Arya opened her eyes just to see the mare eating the whole fruit and then sniffing her hand again as if Arya could make another appear from thin air. “See? She will grow to like and trust you if you prove to be kind to her. She will do the same for you if you give her a chance.” Jon held her right wrist and rose her arm. “Open your hand.” He said and Arya decided to do as he told. Jon placed her hand between the horse’s eyes so she could feel the oily texture of it’s fur and caress Spring.

For a second Arya felt brave and confident. Not enough to ride a horse, but way less frightened than she had been at first. Jon stood behind her, as if he was trying to prevent her from running away. He caressed Spring’s neck with familiarity.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” He asked Arya. 

“I still have my doubts.” Arya said as she felt calmer.

“There’s no need for fear.” He tried to sound friendly. “Give it a chance. With a bit of time you’ll learn to love and trust them.” Jon said, but at that point Arya wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the horses, or if he was talking about himself. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been 84 years...  
> I know it took me forever to update it and no one was expecting for new updates, but I decided to give you guys an extra Christmas present. I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

It was conflicting to watch her walking around Winterfell. Most of the time Jon allowed the faint hope of finding Arya again to take over his mind, but every now and then Bran’s words would come back like a curse.

Arya Flint wasn’t the woman he loved, no matter how much they might look like and even act in a similar way. That girl came from a different time; one that sounded almost like a different world completely. She knew things about him that Jon could never have guessed, and shared with him a bit of what Westeros would come to be. That alone should be enough to make him feel blessed, but that wasn’t the reality of it.

Jon didn’t care about fame and glory. Not when it meant to live without Arya Stark. He was trying to hold on to the hope that she would come back like Miss Flint said, but deep down fear started to bloom again. He had seen her body burning. He had given it to the flames to attend her last wish. What god could bring back from the dead someone that didn’t have a body anymore?

Those moments were when he got conflicted about Miss Flint. After a while he started to wonder if what the gods had done was in fact send him a different version of Arya. One that had lived another life; reincarnated in a different century to serve a purpose that was still mysterious to him.

Bran accused him of being cruel for grooming Arya Flint into what Jon thought to be the ideal woman. After giving that accusation a careful thought, Jon simply couldn’t ignore it to have some reason and logic. He wanted Arya back and the means he would use to get it were far from being honorable. What if the only thing he would ever have was an imitation of the reality he had dreamed about for so long?

The taste of it was bitter. Once he saw Arya Flint being terrified of even approaching a horse, the illusion that Arya Flint and Arya Stark were one and the same was suddenly shattered. The woman he loved seemed to have been born a centaur and riding horses was something they liked to do together. What other differences might be hiding behind that familiar face? How many and how much damage they could bring to his life? If the gods proved to be cruel in the end, how would he manage to live with those differences for the sake of a future with that woman?

Of course he was assuming that Miss Flint would agree with the plan should the necessity arise. What options she had? Without the name Stark she was no one in a land that was completely hostile to her. Even so, Bran’s words kept coming to his mind... _You will be deliberately forcing her into this role. Forcing her to take all the pressure of court and bare you children..._ _I’m not the one that will be bedding an unwilling bride._

_If it isn’t her, it will be someone else. She would hardly be the first woman to not appreciate the idea of a marriage or her suitor. She might...She might come to like it with time. She might come to like me…_ Although he tried to convince himself of this, deep down Jon knew them to be feeble hopes.

Those were concerns that never crossed his mind before. There were few things in the world that Jon took for granted, but Arya’s unconditional love for him was never questioned in his entire life. Now she was there and she didn’t love him. She was there and yet she had no memory of him. She was there, but she looked at him with suspicion and at times she seemed to even be afraid of him. That was enough to hurt his pride and break his heard. That was the kind of wound he hadn’t been trained to take and endure.

After a couple of days getting acquainted with the horses, Arya finally managed to get on Spring’s back. He posture was terrible and she seemed to be about to cry again as the mare trotted around. He couldn’t even bring himself to correct her at first. The idea of someone being afraid of horses was absurd on its own, but Jon assumed that horses might not be easy to acquire in the future. If so, Arya deserved at least his sympathy and admiration for being brave enough to fight her own fears in order to honor their agreement, no matter how terrifying they were.

“Try to straight up your back.” Jon told her as she passed by him with the mare. Arya was livid with fear while holding to the reigns as if she was trying to hold on to her past life.

“I can’t...” She barely managed to reply him. “I’ll fall! I know I will!”

“You won’t fall. You are doing great, my lady. Just a bit of practice and you’ll be the finest amazon in the North.” That was half a lie. In fact Arya wasn’t as bad as he thought she would be. She seemed to know the basics of it and with enough confidence for her to hold to the correct posture, Miss Flint would easily have everyone believing that she grew up on horseback.

After an hour Jon decided to release her from her lessons. He would still have to teach her how to use a sword, but horses seemed to be difficult enough for the moment. He didn’t want to push her too far and make an even bigger mess of their awkward partnership.

As they walked back inside the castle and Jon observed her carefully he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

“You are a good student. You learn fast.” He said shortly in an effort to compliment her determination and bravery.

“It’s not as if I could afford to fail in this. I am an actress. I had to learn how to do the most absurd things just to get a minor part on tv.” Her voice was heavy. “I just have to face it as the role of my life.”

“You certainly is a fine actress. I appreciate your effort.” Jon insisted.

“Thank you.” Arya answered dutifully. “It’s not every day one get to be complimented by a king.” 

“Soon we will be leaving to the capitol.” Jon pointed. “Maybe it would be for the best if we got to know each other better. Bran won’t be there so it will be only the two of us. I don’t want you to think that you have reason to fear me.”

“I don’t fear you.” Arya replied in a stubborn way that made him smile fondly.

“You’ll need to lie a lot better than this to survive the capitol.” His voice probably came out too condescending, but he couldn’t help. In a way Arya Flint was just like the child Arya Stark. The same defiance and stubbornness he loved so much. “I am not your enemy.”

“No, you are just a complete stranger that happens to be king and freaking good with weapons. It’s like...Not scary at all, except for the fact that you could call for my head if I displeased you at some point.”

“It’s that what you think I’ll do to you?” That accusation was shocking and outraging. “What do they teach you about me in the future for you to come to such conclusion?”

“That you are as just and clever as you are ruthless to your enemies. It’s not really your privilege in this age, but there are some gruesome stories about you. How you killed Bolton, even though he was a monster... You will face rebellions along your reign. Several of them. Most books agree that you are not a merciful sort of man.”

“Should I be merciful?” He looked straightly at her with defiance and curiosity. That girl knew nothing about ruling nor about how cruel the game of thrones could be and yet she presumed to tell him how to do his job. “I’ve been betrayed before. You can hardly blame a man for protecting himself and the kingdom when everything is in chaos. A weak sort of man will never manage to hold it for long. Justice will be served to those who were wronged and, although I’m not particularly fond of dealing with the bloodiest aspects of my duty, I won’t reward treason.”

“I’m sure many kings have spoken like this in the past and will speak like this in the future.” Arya insisted. “It still doesn’t make it easy to digest.”

“Why don’t you tell me something about you instead of spoiling the future to me? I don’t really need the details of every step I’ll give along my life, but I would appreciate to learn more about you, my lady.”

“What exactly do you want to know?” She seemed curious at his request and Jon made sign for her to follow him to the library so they wouldn’t be heard.

Arya followed him although she didn’t seem to be comfortable with the idea of being alone with him inside a closed room. One day she might learn to get used to his presence but, just like the horses, Arya would need time to trust 

“Anything.” He answered simply. “Your favorite color; favorite food; what do you like to do for fun; or even how is it to be an actress in your time.”

“My favorite color is light blue. I love cake. I go to the movies, or theater and being an actress means that I almost never have money. You only get it when you are famous, which I’m not.” She replied in an annoyed tone. She answered his questions and still they said very little about her character. She sounded like a regular young woman, except for the idea that she had a profession and lived on her own. “Anything else?”

“In fact there’s a great deal of things I want to know about you, but for now...Why don’t you speak of your parents or the sort of life you had?” That was something that he would wonder about frequently but never had the courage to ask. “I can’t understand who you are without getting to know where you came from.”

“My parents still live at the Vale. A small town, were everybody knows everybody and you don’t really have a future unless you spread your wings and fly away from that place.” Arya replied and this time her voice sounded angry and yet hurt. For a second Jon thought she was about to cry. “My mother is a teacher to young children. My father worked most of his life in a clothing factory. They wished for be to be a healer, or a master of laws, but I wanted to be an actress instead. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“You must miss them.” Jon concluded in a sympathetic tone, but instead of offering her comfort those words seemed to make her even more upset.

“Yes. Yes I do and just to think that I might never see them again if terrifying.” She whipped away a stubborn tear. “We didn’t part in good terms. They were so mad at me for going after my dream...Now I wish I had never left.”

“I’m sorry to distress you. It wasn’t my intention.” He said out of embarrassment and concern. It would never be easy for him to see a woman crying, especially one whose face was so dear to his heart. “It’s funny though...You didn’t fit the idea of what your parents thought to be right for you to do. Arya was...She have always been a rebel at heart. Neither of us fit in this family. Maybe that was exactly what brought us together.”

“I know I have to pretend to be her. I know I must act my way out of this mess, but right now...” She growled at him. “Right now I would like for you to stop forcing me to react to you as she would. Stop trying to find similarities between us, because no matter how much we look like, I am not her. I am not Arya Stark and if you keep trying to see her in me one of us will end up hurt.”

“I just want for you to trust me. I just want to be your friend, my lady.” Jon tried to excuse his behavior, although he knew her to be right.

“No, you don’t. You want her back. I get it.” At that point she was crying openly. “You will do whatever it takes to get her back, but in the mean time you won’t think twice before crashing anything and anyone in your way. I am not an exception. Right now I am useful as a convenient replacement, but there’s a chance of me never going back to my time. What then? What if bringing me to this time messed up with everything and Arya Stark never comes back?!”

There was silence for a while. Heavy and shameful silence. That girl, fierce and bold as she was, dared to question his intentions and put his honor in check when Jon no longer felt compelled to follow it. Deep down she knew she was in danger somehow. In danger of being trapped in his hands forever, should her information prove to be wrong.

“We will take care of you.” Jon answered soberly while avoiding to look at her. “I’ll do my best to send you back and correct this terrible mistake, but if I fail to send you home...You will wish for nothing here. You will be safe.”

“Safe from what? Better yet, safe from who?” She snapped back. “Will I be safe from you and your obsession? Will I be safe from Lord Stark’s ambitions of keeping the North independent while still in good terms with the Iron Throne? I am just a pawn on this board and I stand between the two mightiest pieces of this game. I am not stupid to think that I have any chance of winning against the two of you and I am scared!”

Arya was pale and shaking with all the commotion of that conversation. Jon couldn’t bring himself to deny her accusations and yet he wanted to comfort her for the sake of his pride. He had accepted long ago that he was a damned man. One cursed with a legacy that was larger than life, a responsibility he never wished and forced to lose everything and everyone he ever loved, but he never took pleasure in the tragedy of others.

Jon held her by the shoulders to try to calm her down and yet it made Arya even more distressed. She tried to repel him and even without any proper training she was still quick and sly in her moves like a wild cat.

“Calm down, Arya! Calm down!” He commanded her while still holding to Arya’s shoulders.

“Let me go! Take your hands out of me!” She replied as she tried to pull him away while crying. “You, your horses, blades and crown...I don’t want any of this! I just want to go home!”

Jon locked her within his arms to prevent her from hurting him or herself. Arya tried to fight it without much success.

“Calm down. Please...” He begged as she slowly stopped debating. “Please.”

Once she was calmer, but still crying against his shoulder, Jon allowed himself to touch the back of her head and run his fingers thru her hair.

“I am not here to hurt you, Arya.” He said softly. “I know you are scared and I’m sorry for being the source of your distress, but...I’ll make things right.”

“I just want to go home.” Her voice was broken and so was his heart.

“I know...I’ll do my best to send you back.” He said. “I just ask you to...Try to not think of me as your enemy, because I’m not. We need to work together for now.”

“What if you never find her? What if you never find a way to send me back?” She sobbed. “Will you let me go? Will you let me leave this place and live as I see fit?”

“I will.” Jon said, although he knew it to be a lie.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I managed to write and publish this chapter earlier than expected. I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

Bran managed to get some time for himself in the godswood that night. He had a servant conducting him to the holly place and staying there in dutiful silence while the King in The North and Lord of Winterfell dived into the deepest secrets of the world.

Before the First Men, the Andals and the Dragons, magic already ruled the North and one could still find it if he knew where to look at. Roots grew strong and deep in the frozen soil, connecting the land and the people in one intricate web of knowledge and memories. If he wanted to know about his sister; if he wanted to know about the Flint girl, only the eyes carved on the heart trees would grant him the information.

Blood Raven had warned him that present and past were things Bran would be able to see thru the eyes of the trees, but the future...That was another matter entirely. For a long time he though it to be impossible. He had believed time travel to be impossible too, but Arya Flint came from the future just to prove him wrong.

If he wanted to see what he needed to see, maybe the old gods should be persuaded to grant him a glimpse of what was yet to come. Not his personal life or even Jon’s. He just needed to see the girl and maybe a way to send her back to her time.

Bran pulled the dagger he had brought with him and pricked his finger. The blood dripped from the fresh wound and with reverence Bran put his finger at the mouth carved on the heart tree in a humble offer. _Blood of the First Men, wolf blood, blood of Winterfell...My veins are filled with the same magic you carry in your sap. I offer you my blood in exchange for answers. Where is my sister? Who is Arya Flint? How can I send her back home?_

He didn’t have to ask those questions out loud for the gods to hear. As soon as Bran touched the bone white trunk he was dragged to another time, to witness secret moments, to gather valuable information.

What he first saw was a man in black being stabbed by his brothers. The body falling to the ground clumsily and the blood painting the snow around him. He came closer just to listen to the man’s last words... _Stick with the pointy_ end. 

In the second vision he saw Jon standing in front of the heart tree with his solemn face looking at the old gods with shame, anger, and yet...And yet his eyes seemed to finally see the obvious nature of his feelings for the woman standing behind him.

“I knew I would find you here.” The woman said. Arya Stark looked just like Bran remembered. She was all dressed in boiled leather, with a breast plate and a sword by her side. She bit her bottom lip as she usually did whenever she was about to start a difficult conversation. “I think...I think we need to talk?”

“If you are here to tell me that no matter who brought me into this world I will always be your brother...You better save it to yourself.” Jon answered sharply. _He had just found out...His blood, his lineage, his fate...Both a curse and a blessing for a man tormented by guilt over a forbidden love._

“Nothing changes, Jon.” Arya’s voice was loving and gentle in a way that she rarely used since the came back from Braavos. Those soft word were usually meant for Jon and Jon alone. With him she had always been her most gentle and feminine self. She might haven’t noticed what that meant, but it was obvious for anyone to see. Jon wasn’t the only one tormented by those feelings.

“Of course it does.” He answered soberly. “I’ll never be myself again. This...this curse will never allow me to.”

“You finally know the truth. You should be happy for this. You had a mother that loved you and...Even if Father wasn’t your real sire, he still loved you as his son. He turned his life into a great secret out of love for you. This will never change.”

“Should I be happy about being the son of a cruel prince? Or for knowing that I killed my own mother?” Jon turned to face her. He was a broken man. Arya knew it and she would always love every single bit of him even when Jon couldn’t love himself. “They said she loved him...Did she or this is just another lie for me to have this perfect image in my mind? Lyanna would never be allowed to leave the tower even if she wanted to. She couldn’t deny him if she wanted to. Did she accept to be a second wife? Did she agree with what he did to Princess Elia?… Could Lyanna ever share her bed willingly with a man that had a part in the murder of Rickard and Brandon?”

At that point Jon was crying and for Bran that would always bring an unsettling feeling. Jon would always be his older brother. A hero of sorts, just like Robb had been. At times if was difficult for a boy to understand that even heroes could be broken.

“You can’t change the past and it’s useless for you to make these questions now. You are only torturing yourself with this while ignoring what really matters. Your mother never leaved you. Whatever happened between her and Rhaegar...She still loved you and I’m sure she fought as much as she could to stay alive.” Arya came closer and threw her arms around him as she usually did since they were children. “It doesn’t change who you are to me.”

Jon answered her gesture of carrying affection and for a moment Bran was embarrassed by the intimacy of that scene.

“But it changes who you are to me.” He answered before looking into her eyes. His hand cupped her face and his thumb brushed her cheek lightly. Bran could see the cold resolution taking shape inside Jon’s mind and from that moment on that man would never be the same again. The kiss came; harsh, voracious and violent like blizzard. Bran couldn’t tell if Arya had accepted Jon’s rampant of if she was simply too shocked to react.

Bran didn’t need to stay there to figure that they had made an offer of Arya’s maidenhead to the old gods.

The third vision was of a woman laid on a pyre and a man with eyes filled with madness cutting his palm and making an offer of his own blood to the gods while begging them to bring his lady back. Bran cried at the sight of his sister’s dead body being given to the flames. Arya had always been a beloved sister and a friend. No matter what Jon thought about it, missing her wasn’t a privilege of the King in the Iron Throne.

_ What about the girl? What about Arya Flint? How does she fit in this? _

The answer came in a furious hurricane of colors and blurred images. Machines he had never seen; mighty cities flocked with men and women that were always too busy to notice anything around them. Winterfell...lights, people, horses, machines, angry shouts, strange carts and in the middle of all this Arya Flint stood with a parchment in hand.

She was dressed in a wedding dress, perfectly oblivious to what fate had in store for her. She was happy, Bran could tell. She had lived a life that allowed her to be reckless, carefree and absolutely naive about a great deal of things. She was eager to please everyone around her, maybe because that was the only way for her to get another job in another...Movie.

Bran followed her to the woods. Arya was distracted reading her lines and trying to find the right tone and the right face to use when she was called. Brandon would have loved to talk with that girl who seemed to lively and so...Pure.

Arya Flint had never seen a war. She had never experienced the hardship of a life lived in poverty and constant danger. That young woman was allowed to smile, dance, flirt and be the whoever she wanted to be. No name, no legacy, no game; Arya Flint was simply a girl living a simple sort of life.

“Why? Why her?” Bran asked mindlessly.

“ _Many lives passed, many lives were lost, but two souls were bind together.”_ A genderless voice echoed all around him. “ _Her soul will never find rest. Not while he keeps her anchored to this place and to him. He is the Prince that was promised. He brought the light back to the world and finished the harsh winter...He demanded a reward and a reward he had. Just not in the way he wanted.”_

Suddenly Bran was standing in front of the heart tree and the voice seemed to come out of the carved mouth as the image of Arya Flint meeting Jon for the first time became clear.

“ _By his blood and will the Wolf Dragon brought her soul back, but his arrogance couldn’t go on unpunished. He got her back in a way, but he also lost her. This girl is the woman he loved and yet she isn’t. She doesn’t love him. She doesn’t even know him.”_

“Why are you punishing her for something she has no fault?” Bran questioned. “Arya Flint is innocent in this. I need to send her back?”

“ _Back to what?”_ The voice questioned. _“No one will miss her. No one knows her enough to miss her. She is just another one in the crowd. Not even important enough to be missed by her colleges. Her life isn’t a life. It’s just an empty existence.”_

“What of her family? What of those who knew and loved her?” Bran insisted.

“ _They will cry for a missing girl and they will mourn her. With time they will forget who was Arya Flint, but the name Arya Stark will be remembered forever. She will be immortal, she will be loved, she will be remembered...As long as she forgets who she is in order to become who was again.”_

“Is it possible for her to be send back?” Bran asked.

“ _Yes...At the same place, in the hour of the wolf...Just like she came she will go after an offer of blood.”_

“What happens then? What happens to us?” Bran asked as he felt a sudden fear taking over him.

“ _A kingdom torn apart. Chaos and war.”_ The gods said in their genderless voice. _“Madness.”_

Bran had feared that much. Without dragons to keep the peace in the realm, only a powerful alliance could allow Jon to rule in somewhat stable conditions. Jon had a good mind and a good heart. He could make great changes for those who needed the most, but without support among the noble houses of Westeros, his ideas was as good as sand in Dorne.

“Why madness?” That was the last question and yet it was probably the most important one.

“ _You know why.”_ The gods answered. _“He died with her in mind. He came back with her in mind. Without the girl he is not the Prince that was promised. Without her, he is death and cruelty.”_

§§§§§§§§§

Spring no longer seemed to be so frightening as Arya got used to ride the horse. Arya just couldn’t say the same about the people inside the castle.

Since her breakdown, King Jon seemed way more careful around her, especially in which concerned her personal space. Arya didn’t know for sure if that could be described as a progress or yet another complication. She still needed him for protection and also to find her way back to her own time. At least he seemed sincere when he said he would do everything in his power to send her back home, even if Arya Stark didn’t show up in the end.

After Jon felt somewhat content with her prowess with the horses, he decided to teach her the basics of military tactics and how to use a sword. To her relief all the preparation she went through to perform the role of Jeyne Poole in that damn movie proved to be helpful. Arya remembered the first reading of the script and how the dialogues covered a number of major military events of the time. As for the sword fighting… She had first applied to the role of Arya Stark in the movie and in order to convince the producers and director that she was worthy a shot, Arya Flint had learned a bit of Braavosi fencing. She never got the chance to use those skills in her job, but at least she knew enough to make the lessons in sword fighting less problematic.

“Is it usual for a lady to learn about weapons in the future?” He asked eventually after a long training.

“Not really. I just learned because I really wanted to get the role of Arya Stark in that movie.” She answered awkwardly. “I just never thought I would get the role in the end, only in a different sort of job.” The irony of the moment was too much to ignore, but Jon didn’t seem to find it amusing or funny in the slightest.

“You learned well.” He said in an effort of compliment. “You do have a lightness of foot and gracious movements. It’s different form the Northern style, but it suits you better. It also looks like how Arya used to fight.”

“Is it true that she had a list of people she wanted to kill and killed eventually?” Arya asked as a matter of fact. That always sounded a bit exaggerated, but most of the movies, plays and books about the queen agreed with that.

“She had a list of people she wanted to kill, but most of them ended up dead for some other reason.” He explained while putting his wooden sword aside. “Arya didn’t like the killing, but she valued justice. Those she wanted dead were cruel beings. Murderers, torturers, people that somehow made her suffer. It wasn’t about revenge. It was about not letting those men and women to do the same to other innocent lives.”

“Even if it were about vengeance, you would find a way to justify her actions and convince other that a more virtuous woman never walked the land.” Arya replied in an acid voice as she looked at his face careful. She expected some sort of harsh reply, but what she got was his blushing face. She would never understand that man that was the most scary person she had ever seen and in the following minute would blush like a maiden.

“You are probably right about it.” Jon answered with embarrassment. “I’ve been doing this for most of my life. Defending her is like...Something that is part of who I am.”

“Although she doesn’t sound like the sort of woman that needs a savior. If half of what you say about her is to be trusted, than it’s more likely that Arya Stark would save you and not the other way around.”

“Once more you are right.” Jon agreed. “In a way she did save me and...I failed to do the same for her.”

“I’m sure she knows that you did everything you could. I’m also sure that she would never think less of you because of it.”

“She always thought highly of me even when I didn’t deserve it.” He explained. “There is...There is something I need to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“In a week we will leave to King’s Landing.” Jon said in a sober voice. He seemed tense and somewhat nervous about what he wanted to tell her. “Once we reach the capitol there will be a great deal of pressure for the wedding to be performed as soon as possible. I know how you feel about it and I know I’ve made you a promise. I’ll try to delay it as much as I can to buy us time to find the real Arya Stark, but for that to happen I’ll need your help.”

“What is it that I have to do?” Arya questioned in resignation. At least he had a plan to avoid the wedding. That was a good sign.

“You’ll claim that you made a vow to the Seven to honor your mother’s memory. You will say that you promised to embroider a fine piece to adorn the altars of the Mother and the Maiden and you won’t marry anyone until this piece is finished.”

“I thought Lady Arya was terrible at this sort of things.” Arya pointed.

“That’s exactly why you will insist on it. It will take forever to finish such a thing and you can undo parts of it to delay it even more.”

“Will this plan work?” She was skeptical of it. That sounded so simple that it was hard to believe that his counselors would buy such an excuse.

“No one will ever question a lady’s devotion to the Faith and it will also buy us the sympathy of the High Septon. He isn’t much fond of me since I don’t worship the Seven.”

“I guess this is something I can do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

As the preparations for their travel back to King’s Landing started, a deep sense of loosing something important took over Arya’s chest.

Clothes were folded and packed into grand chests, along with a set of personal belongings that were never meant to be hers. In a way she was packing someone else life and making it her own, while her own life got distant by the hours. At times Arya found herself trying to remember things. Small things like the name of the coffee shop she liked to go, or the name of the streets she took to get to the studio or even important dates such as her mother’s birthday. Those little things were her way of holding back to herself. She was still Arya Flint and Arya Flint was a complete human being, with feeling, preferences and loved ones even though it felt like she was melting inside the life of Arya Stark.

During her staying in Winterfell, Arya was constantly busy trying to memorize everything around her that might reinforce the idea that she was the real deal. A princess from the North, born and raised in an old castle, that lived a great part of her life on the run in order to survive. The survival part was easy. The hard part was to remember everything about the castle and those who lived there. There was also the difficult part of constructing a character from scratch which was building up the important relationships and try to feel about them as strongly as that character might feel.

With Bran and most of the servants it was easy. They were amiable and gentle towards her and Arya realized that the woman she was pretending to be had been one of simple tastes, honest heart and rebellious about all the social ranks. Arya Stark, no mater how mighty she sounded, was first and foremost a girl with a good heart and a playful nature whenever she wasn’t dealing with warfare.

The real challenge was how to handle Jon and understand how the greatest love story of all times came to be when Arya struggled to not think of him as the man who trapped her in the worst kind of hell.

Her feelings about him were ambiguous most of the time. As a ruler and lord, Jon sounded as good as the books have always said he were. He listened to people and he was sympathetic towards their problems, but never failed to be strict and at times even harsh whenever necessary. As a relative he was a loving man. The way he interacted with Brandon said that much. Always gentle, warm and willing to laugh over a fond memory or share his grief with the only one inside that castle that actually understood his position. It was with her that he would often become someone else.

Jon was constantly divided between thinking of her as Arya Stark and trying to turn her into Arya Stark. There was nothing remotely healthy about the way he was dealing with her absence, but he was king and no one was able to call him in his bullshit and say “let it go”. He was obstinate about getting what he wanted. He was implacable about his methods and at times Arya Flint feared that one day he might just forget that she wasn’t the woman he wanted and would decide that the looks were enough for him to settle. Flint was actually terrified of waking up in the middle of the night with that man on top of her.

The idea of moving from Winterfell to King’s Landing only served to make her worries bigger. Bran wasn’t coming along with them, at least not in the first moment. She would have only a few servants she was somewhat familiar with to give her some sense of familiarity and even so they were all loyal to Brandon and Jon first. They were all spying on her and reporting every move she made to the two Kings. In the end there would be only one person entrusted with taking care of her and Arya couldn’t trust that Jon would chose her well-being over his own expectations and wishes should they ever collide.

Once her things were all packed, Arya picked up her purse and looked into it as if trying to find a piece of herself inside of it. She found the worn out script with her lines underlined and marked, along with a turned off cellphone, some snacks, documents and the only picture she had of her parents since she left home.

Arya sat on her bed and looked at the picture for a few moments. It had been taken on her birthday. She was six at the time and displaying a wide smile with two teeth missing. Her mom was wearing a funny hair style that made it look too voluminous, while her dad was going thru his mustache years. They looked like any other family that lived in their small town. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was a good one and she only learned it when it was too late.

Her parents were now Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. Both of them killed in the most horrific way, along with two brothers. She had a sister she wasn’t close with living somewhere south and Brandon was the only family she had left, along with her betrothed. Her life had been a living hell since she was nine and that was enough to explain why she was so strange at times. She had a giant wolf that would follow her whenever she ventured outside the castle, like some sort of babysitter. She was queen-to-be and apparently she didn’t like the idea, but accepted it because it was the right thing to do for her family and country. Nothing of that brought Arya Flint comfort. In fact, whenever she revised her new role she was taken by a sudden anxiety and a deep sadness for the sort of life Arya Stark had lived.

 

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

 

Arya Flint was the prize and the punishment for his crimes. The woman he loved without everything that made her the woman he loved.

Was that it? Would she ever complete his sentences or smile at him as if seeing his face was the best part of her day? Would she ever trust him? Would she ever...like him at all?

Jon could teach her how to ride horses and use a sword, but could he teach her to believe in his word and accept his affections without looking at him as if Jon was about to hurt her somehow? As much as he tried to understand her delicate position in that game, it was still hurtful to look at the image of everything he ever wanted and had it turned into a poisoned gift.

Bran had tried to explain it in the best way he could. Arya Flint was Arya Stark in some twisted way. Only in a different life, in a different time. A soul reincarnated over and over again, just because Jon had been too greedy and selfish to allow her to be free.

“Is there a way to send her back?” Jon questioned finally. At first he had been determinate to keep her in case of his Arya never coming back. After witnessing Flint’s distress and how much the whole mess was unfair with her, Jon no longer wished for her to stay if that meant she would be permanently unhappy.

“There is, but you won’t even think about it.” Bran answered bluntly before looking at him with coldness behind his eyes. “She is as valuable now as she was before, if not more valuable.”

“It’s not right though.” Jon replied while a bitter taste took over his mouth. “The girl has nothing to do with our problems and it’s not right to demand her to take over this place.”

“Not long ago you agreed with me in this, but I guess you remembered who you are. It’s not a very convenient time for you to play by the book, Jon.”

“I will not force her into this. Your father thought me better than to use a young woman to my benefits, especially one who has been placed under my care. I will send her back. This is the only thing I can do.” He insisted. “Just tell me how I can do it.”

“You won’t do it.” Bran’s voice sounded final as he looked at Jon. Not even the wheelchair was capable of robbing the boy of his authority and power. Bran might be crippled for life, but the shadow he cast was a mighty one. “Arya is gone! My sister is dead and right now the only think keeping you in check is precisely this woman you want to send back to her time. Even if you send her back the only thing you’ll accomplish is to keep her soul trapped. Never free and never able to rest because of you. She is clever, she learns fast and she has a level of knowledge that we don’t. As far as I can see she also has a good heart and my sister’s face and soul. There is literally nothing for you to dislike about her and plenty to love, so do it! Do it and let Arya be free once she is dead!”

“I WON’T!” Jon’s temper finally got the best of him and for a second he noticed that Bran was afraid of him. Jon took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I can’t. She is only a girl, Bran. She might be older than your sister, but at her heart she is as naive and innocent as Arya was at the age of eight. She is afraid and she is scared. She has a family; a mother and father that are waiting for her. Miss Flint knows nothing of our ways; of what we did and will always do in order to survive. I couldn’t save Arya, but let me send this girl back home.”

“We have an agreement and the documents are already signed. She is yours already, Jon. I can’t undo it without inviting chaos into this land.” Bran replied and this time he tried to sound caring and even condescending. “Take your time. Let us go one with this needlework plan of yours and meanwhile you try to convince her that you are the best option she has. I’m sure you won’t have problems to fall for her and, as you said before, she might come to like you with time.”

“What if she doesn’t?” His voice came out broken and worn out. “I can’t go on with this, Bran. I can’t force myself upon a woman that for all I know is helpless in a foreign land.”

“I’m afraid you won’t have much choice in this.”

At that Jon left the room while ignoring everything Bran tried to yell at him. Nothing in that made any sense to him. His father might have been a monster, but Jon refused to take up that part of the legacy. If Bran was unwilling to help, Jon would have to find another way to honor his promise to Arya Flint.

Inevitably Jon stopped at her door and wondered for a second if he should check on her or not. That ridiculous necessity of jumping in front of everything that might hurt the last piece he had of Arya would still be the death of him. It was stronger than him though and the idea that he couldn’t even trust Bran to keep him closer to the Stark’s honor made Jon even more distressed.

In many ways it felt like he could no longer recognize himself. He was King first and everything else second. The only thing he wished was to be simply Jon Snow and not Rhaegar’s heir. Jon Snow had been an honorable boy who loved his siblings and longed for a maternal figure, while Jon Targaryen was cold, ruthless and selfish like a spoiled prince. His only concern was the realm and everything that might damage it should be crushed and not even his honor was an exception of it.

Jon opened the door carefully to not startle her, but he found Miss Flint sleeping on a bed full of half folded clothes she had been packing. The image of her sleeping so peacefully warmed up his heart a bit.

Miss Flint was a woman grown, with an occupation and income. An independent woman unlike any he ever met and yet she looked like a child sleeping soundly. Her dark wavy hair forming a halo around her head and her body curved like that of a pup trying to get warm. So peaceful and so vulnerable that it almost broke his heart to look at her and admit that he might never be able to save her from the mess he made.

Jon couldn’t resist the temptation of moving a lock of hair that fell over her face so he could have a better look of her. She looked so lonely, so lovely and so lethal to his honor. She was the cruelest trick the gods could ever play and at times Jon found it hard not to give in and simply accept Brandon’s plans.

Arya had fell asleep holding something in her left hand. One of those fantastic items form the future, no doubt. Jon gave in to his own curiosity and picked up the squared hardened piece of parchment to examine. His initial perception of it made him conclude that it was a painting of sorts.

He looked at the image carefully. An infant girl with a wide smile, clapping her hands and showing the teeth that were missing. A man with a thick mustache and odd clothes trying to prevent the kid from falling from wherever she was standing on. A woman with a mane of thick dark brown hair and loving eyes, smiling and waving at the painter. Were those Arya’s parents? Was that the life she used to have?

Laughs, smiling lines, warm hugs and a warm home, with people that loved her for everything she was and for everything she was not. That was everything Bran was trying to convince Jon to steal from that young woman. _I could give it to her too..._ The bitter thought came, but Jon knew it to be a feeble attempt to justify his moments of weakness.

_But I wouldn’t love her for who she is. I would love her for who she could become if so she wanted. Either way I am the monster in this and Miss Flint has the right to hate me for what I did and for what I still might do to her._

If only he could freeze time and remain by her side, just looking at her face and delighting himself with the tranquility of that moment. Obviously those feelings were always brief in his world and that occasion was no different. Arya woke up and immediately adopted a defensive position as if she truly believed that Jon would attack her there and then.

“What do you want?!” She asked in distress while searching around her body for something she could use to defend herself with.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to startle you.” Jon answered immediately in an attempt to calm her down. “I just came in to check on you and found you sleeping with this in your hand.” He waved the miniature of a painting to her. “I know it’s very rude of me to look at your belongings but...I was curious about what it was. Another one of the wonders from the future perhaps? What is this exactly?”

Arya seemed to relax a bit at his question. She sat on the bad and her hands tried to tame her long dark hair and place it over right shoulder. 

“This is a photograph.” She said simply, with her voice still shaken. “A photo, for short. It’s like a painting, but you get one of those using a machine called camera. It captures the light and print it on a special kind of paper...Parchment, I mean.”

“Does it take long to get one? I imagine it must be tiresome to stay like this for hours and yet...They look all so at ease and relaxed in this.” His voice was a bit dreamy as he tried to figure how that thing worked and imagined all the marvelous things the future would bring.

“It only take a few seconds to capture the image. This is actually an antique already. With cellphones we barely use cameras or even have the photos printed.” She explained.

“I’ve never seen such a good portray before. It’s so real that I can almost hear the child’s laugh.” Jon said gently. “Is it you in this?” Arya nod in a silent confirmation. “How old were you?”

“Six years old.” She said lightly. “It was taken on my birth...On my name-day.”

“These are your parents, I take.” Once more she agreed. “It looks like a happy family. A beautiful family. Your face...You have much of your mother although your eyes are more like your father’s. Can you tell me their names?”

“Melissa and Bernard.” She smiled sadly. “As for I looking like them...It’s kind of you to say so, but I’m not their natural daughter. I was adopted by them when I was two. I never knew my real parents.”

“You wish you had known them?” Jon asked before he sat by her side on bed almost by instinct.

“Not really.” Arya said with her voice full of longing and gratitude. “They didn’t want me, I don’t see why I should want them. I have a good family and a good home. I had birthday parties and picnics; goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. Mom and dad love me. I was surely rebellious and ungrateful before, but I never doubted that.”

“I...I wished to know my mother for a long time. She died shortly after I was born.” Jon said it as if speaking of his parents were a source of shame to him. “My father was...I never knew I was his son until a year ago. I wasn’t happy with the news. I’m still not happy about it, but I would give anything to have such a beautiful memory of my mother. One of those...With her smiling on it so I could actually know how she looked like and hold to whenever the day got too difficult to go through.”

“There was this scene in the movie...It was meant to happen at the very beginning of the movie. It’s the moment you were born and they hired this actress that is very new in the business, but she nailed it. She was laid on the bed, speaking her lines as if they were her last chance to doing some good in the world and keep her baby safe. I was lucky for being able to watch it being recorded. It was so beautiful and so powerful. If reality was anything like that scene, I think she loved you very much.”

“Every time you speak of this...It makes me even more curious to see what is this thing called movie. I’m not even much fond of plays, but...I think I would like to watch a movie.”

“It can be so much fun and heartbreaking at times. It’s something we do with friends, family and even with people we want to impress, you know...Someone you want to take on a date.”

“A date?” The sentence didn’t make much sense in his mind.

“You know...When you take your special girl to do something nice for fun or simply to spend time with her. It can also be to impress her and make her see how much of a good partner you can be.”

“Like courtship?” He asked.

“I guess so. It doesn’t have to be only before there is a serious commitment. Couples do it all the time even after marriage. My parents used to go on a date at least once a month. Mom used to say that it was her Princess Day. She would put on a nice dress and do her hair. Father would always look at her and say something like “I’m a lucky guy” or “I’m taking the Prom Queen out tonight”.”

“I guess I’ve never seen a couple being like this. It must be nice though.” Jon tried to imagine how it was to stay alone with the girl he loved, just laughing and enjoying a good time without worrying about kingdoms.

“I thought you used to have fun with your Arya.” Miss Flint pointed.

“We surely had some good times together. We used to have so much fun, but...She was my best friend. It was natural for it to happen until...Until everything changed. We avoided each other for a while once it was clear that our feelings for each other had changed. She came to be when I learned about my parents and I gave up trying to pretend that I didn’t love her. We became lovers but...When you have a war to fight things are a bit hurried. There was not time for dates or anything but secret kisses and nights spent by the fire.”

“Fucking like the world was about to end, I bet. Here I thought you guys were slow about these things, or at least a bit more conservative.” She said bluntly, making his face burn with embarrassment.

“It’s a very accurate way to describe it.” Jon answered shyly. “In our defense I would like to say that from our perspective the world was about to end. We couldn’t miss the chance. It’s my fault. I should know better, but Arya never made my life easy in this aspect.” 

“You know I’m teasing you, right? I don’t give a damn if you guys skipped some stages of courtship. In the future things are more liberal in this department.”

It was impossible for him to ignore the fact that they were sitting on her bed, alone in the room, while she spoke of how easy it seemed to be to display affection in her time. She looked lovely in her dark green dress, with her hair loose and for a moment Jon could almost see her laid on her back, naked and breathless under his body. It felt to real, so close and yet unreachable at the same time.

“Have you...” He nearly asked if she had a lover of sorts. Someone who used to visit her chambers and share her bed back home, but that wasn’t the sort of things he should ask to a woman. “Sorry. This is none of my business.”

“Yes. I had someone. He was my first and only boyfriend back at high school. When I decided to move to another town and become an actress I broke his heart. I thought...I thought I would get stuck in a life I didn’t want for myself if decided to stay with him. Maybe I should have stayed and had a simple kind of life instead of aiming for the starts.”

“You are no ordinary woman to settle for an ordinary life, I guess. He was lucky to have you, even if for a short time.” Jon lowered his head and took a deep breath before he could get up from the bed. At that point, with her standing so close, the most stupid sort of thoughts were crossing his mind like shooting stars and those were dangerous thoughts to indulge. “I hope you’ll have everything ready. We leave to King’s Landing in a couple of days.”

“I’ll have everything ready. Thank you.” She said.

“What for?” That took him by surprise.

“For letting me talk about myself without comparing me to her. For trying to know me.” Arya said.

“You are welcome. In fact...I like this woman I just got to know a bit. I believe I’ll try to get to know her better from now on.” Jon smiled at her fondly. “Goodnight, Miss Flint.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason listening to Ed Sheeran makes this flow like a river (Photograph; Castle on the Hill; Thinking Out Loud and Perfect). I have a very lame head canon of Jon being secretly an Ed Sheeran fan. I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came out of a chat with Muse, who inspired me to write some time travel fic. Now that I started the whole thing I realize that this trope is one of my favorites since at least three of my favorite shows/books/manga follow this. I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


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